Parasite
by P.A.W.07
Summary: Hunger. Everything in the world is driven by hunger be it the hunger for money, love, forgiveness … or life. Scorponok is hungry, and he'll do anything to survive. So, it is easy to say, it is a bad day to be an Autobot. Gift for Wiik E. 07'verse
1. Prequal

Parasite: Hunger. Everything in the world is driven by hunger be it the hunger for money, love, forgiveness … or life. Scorponok is hungry, and he'll do anything to survive. So, it is easy to say, it is a bad day to be an Autobot. Gift for Wiik E.

Rating: Teen for gore

Image: 'Bluestreak's New Pet' by Cipanolino.

Disclaimer: If only, if only, the plot bunny sings.

XXX

The sands shifted, like un-melting snow, falling to the whim and weary of the wind. The shimmering-painting of endless brown, almost living, hills of the desert were certainly a sight to behold, at least to Scorponok. Its soft whispers of shifting sand had comforted him for the past two weeks ever since he had found his Master in a pool of his own energon.

_The world had fallen to a plague of gunfire. Buildings were falling to the earth with nothing but death in mind, taking life of mech and human alike while leaving pools of life fluids left and right as it dripped down like rivers into the sewage systems. Yet, in the chaos of failing sparks and rotting human hearts, one figure rushed through the sewage systems, caring little that blood was pooling atop his head every time he passes a manhole. He had only one obstacle in mind: to find his master. He had to find Blackout if it was the last thing to be accomplished by the beating little spark in his chest. _

_It didn't take long for his bond to his master to whisper in the back of his mind: this way._

_He listened to the connection with almost a chipper breath, but sudden stopped, the waters of sewer swishing at his sudden stillness. His symbiotic connection with Blackout suddenly seemed to waver and then it snapped; a horrible backlash suddenly slammed into the 'Con's mind, the flier's last painful moments thrusting itself through the link as if begging the smaller being to help it hold onto life. Scorponok was too overwhelmed and was quickly cast into a world of darkness and murky waters, his dreams were of energon pooling down into the sewers and Blackout petting his head. _

_By the time the small 'Con was able to rouse himself a few hours later, he found that his master had not been petting him on the head, but water had been dripping down from the world above … and that there was a pain in his chest, an emptiness. A part of him wanted to drown himself in the disgusting waters because he had felt this loss before, but he had to see. He had to, even if it would haunt him for the remainder of his days like so many masters before. He had to say goodbye to Blackout; his loyal and kind master. _

_Twilight has started to drown the city, and the drone found himself crawling to the surface like a hungry rat. It didn't take him long to find his loyal master, a ghostly silence whispering the way. It was empty around his owner's corpse, Blackout's form on his belly like a gutted fish. The scorpion-like drone was still a moment, his optics dragging on the form, looking over the damage and for signs of life. Perhaps his master was still alive … perhaps he was only playing. _

_A clicking of many limbs filled the empty street and the watching windows, and soon the drone was inches form Blackout's outstretched hand. Despite his ache, the drone chirped first as if saying, "Wake up, wake up, I'm here." Blackout remained still. The drone tilted its head and then suddenly lashed out with one of his claws and touched the being in his midsection; Blackout hated being poked. _

_There was still no movement. _

_Scorponok wilted on his many legs, the truth starting to set in. Slowly, as if he were a dying dog, the drone drew nearer to his master's hand. The symbiot softly rubbed his head against the hand, begging his master to get up. _

_He did not get to mourn his master. _

_Soon a crane and a truck pulled into the sanctity of his mourning grounds, and the drone was forced back underground into the filth of the sewers. It didn't take long to decide, as he watched the humans cruelly drag his master's body away, that if he was going to die on this mud ball, he'd do so in the desert. It so reminded him of home._

Though, it is amazing how persuasive hunger can be … especially when it comes to you.

The Con dug his back legs a little deeper into the sand as the thought made both his tank and his spark ache. They had taken his master away, these Autobots. They had taken the only thing in the universe that was even of a mild importance. There was no doubt in his mind that they'd try to take his life as well. It was just a matter of time, and Primus knows how dangerous he could be when he was hungry.

XXX

Scorponok sat there with his optics barely above the sands, like a crocodile in the waters. He was watching; he was waiting and sizing up each Autobot to see which would make a good host. There were five of them in total. The medic with a bad attitude; the fire happy Weapon's specialists; the yellow youngling; the grey sharp shooter; and the scientist he would never forget after that one time … Perceptor. Ugh, he hated Autobot scientists. They were always trying to get their hands on a symbiotic drone to try to understand the connection they formed with their host and see if they could break it. Apparently, symbiots were only a Deception thing because they thought it was slavery. For whom … well, that was decided by the symbiot, and how docile they were. Usually, symbiotic relationships were mutual, but it was not unheard of to have a symbiot forced into a partnership or, for a starving drone, to force themselves on a holder. The latter was not usual since the partnership would be unstable, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

And Scorponok had gone past the desperate stage.

He needed to feed or deactivate. Death had seemed soothing at first with the loss of his long companion, but he had a feeling that Blackout cared him far too much to wish such a thing on him. He'd live if only to punish one of these Autobots for what they had done to him, for taking HIS Blackout.

Now, only to choose which one it should be. The weapon's Specialist was defiantly out of the question. He was too dangerous, and Scorponok would probably be shot before he could even drill his tail anywhere near the main systems. The scientist as well; it just made him shiver at the thought of accidently caught instead. He would be little more than a lab rat to the scientist since they didn't think drones were sentinel.

The drone shivered once more at the thought and nearly lubricated himself when the white and green scientist suddenly threw his head in his Scorponok's direction. After a few moments of still vents and slowly overheating systems, did the scientist turn back towards the group, listening as the medic spoke. The drone held his coolant fans for a moment more until he finally re-started his train of thought.

The medic was bulky, so he would be a nice candidate, given that he'd probably have trouble getting Scorponok off his back. He was a medic though … Scorponok didn't know much about medics, but he wouldn't be surprised if the crafty healer would find a way to kickback a forced feeding and merge.

The gunner was small and probably limber, but that meant little in the sands of the deserts. Metal still sank, so the drone knew he'd have an easy time catching the small grey being. His armor was probably thinner then the medic's as well and probably easier to overpower. Yes, he was an excellent candidate.

Yet, there was the yellow youngling, Bumblebee. He was about the same size as the gunner, but a little younger … dumber to the ways of the world. He'd be an easy catch as well and probably had thinner amour too. Hmm … well, he had three choices. Whoever strayed the farthest from the group first was fine with him. He needed to feed. He could deal with the consequences later.

…

Ratchet grumbled to himself as he fell to one knee once again. This was the sixth time he'd slipped on the slopes of the sand. Scorponok tilted his head in sadness. The grumbling of the green mech strangely reminded him of Blackout when he had first been introduced to the Earth's desert. All he did was grumble, whine, moan, and hiss about how much he hated it … that was until he saw just how graceful his partner was beneath the waves of the sand.

True, the medic was that horrid green color, nowhere near as charming as Blackout's paint job, but he was a medic. Now, he didn't know a lot about medics being that he was always repaired by his hosts, but he could tell just by looking at the green mech: he kept himself and his internals clean, a good clean meal. Scorponok's internals slammed violently against his armor, praying almost for him to eat sand to at least end the echoing in his innards.

Well, the medic was alone.

Ratchet finally managed to get his foot loose as and stood there a moment, glaring at the sand as if expecting it to yip and crawl away. When the sand did not retreat, the medic stood on one foot and tried to shake his foot in order to rid himself of the sand in his joints. A surprised yip escaped the CMO as his other foot sank into the loose earth up to his knee joint. With a growl, Ratchet tried to pull out his foot with a hard tug. This action merely made him lose his balance, and he fell face first into the sands.

An angry roar of the engine filled the silence sands, and the medic started thrashing about like an angry toddler until he was on both of his knees and out of the sand, engine panting.

"Fraggin' sand. I'll kill Prowl next time I see him. Send me to make sure there are no injuries my aft. He'll regret his next virus updates … regret."

The medic's engine finally stopped overheating, and the mech was able to rise to his feet again. Yet, just as he predicted, the foot he put most of his weight on fell a few inches in the sand. A sigh escaped the irritated Autobot and this time he decided that perhaps a fit wasn't the best way to go about the problem. Slowly, he knelt down on one knee and started to push the sands from his trapped foot. Slow and steady wins the race.

The scorpion-shaped drone's eyes blinked for a moment, focusing on the mech before him. Then, with the speed that no organic tunnel-digger could hope to manage, he was digging through the sand towards the mech. Yet he did not jump up like a jack-in-the-box when he reached his destination; he instead started to shift sands away from the medic's underground base.

A yelp escaped the CMO when all of a sudden his whole form dropped further into the earth by about five feet. Ratchet was still for a moment, his CPU trembling at the thought of being stuck in quicksand. Yet, he soon realized that that was not the case; he was not sinking any farther. With a grumbled, his earlier digging continued.

The scorpion was still for a moment, feeling the vibrations of digging fingers start once more. He was worried for a moment there. He had miscalculated the mech's weight and medic fell sooner than he had thought he would. In fact, he almost stepped on him! A soft grumble of disgust escaped the drone before he dived a little deeper into the earth below his new host. The mech might have had a weak spot in his back, but he was still rather maneuverable for one of his size. It was best to trap his new owner in sand up to his waist. It would make his first feeding and program downloads easier.

Especially the programs.

It was probably not a well known fact amongst Autobots, being that they had no drones, but even if a symbiot were able to take a mech down and drill open a port for feeding, he'd still starve if he wasn't able to hack the mech's systems. That's why forced bonds were so dangerous. Even if a drone had all the wires in the right spots, if his host's systems didn't know what to do or thought the uplink a threat, starvation would still follow.

He would not starve.

This time, while moving the sands, the drone knew when the mech was about to give way and was out of the way as the mech fell the last few needed feet so he was properly trapped. Well, with that finished, it was time for some hacking. The scorpion-drone quickly moved to the sands above like a rising air bubble, right behind Ratchet's back. Slowly, the mech to busy grumbling about his current predicament, a scorpion-like metallic tail started to rise above the sands. A pointed tip gradually emerged from the tail's tip, a drill tip folding to the front like a second skin.

Then, sick of his hunger, the tale pulled itself backwards, ready to strike, the medic stilling as a clicking sound came to his ears. Yet, he was not fast enough in turning his head to see what laid in wait right behind –

"Yoh Ratchet! Quiet playing in the sand!"

Ratchet's head quickly turned in the direction of the voice, a huge Top kick suddenly coming over a sand dune. Yet, despite having some assistance, his gaze fell back behind him … nothing.

"What you looking at, sand digger?" mocked the back mech as he transformed.

Ratchet slowly turned back to his companion, hand reaching out for assistance.

"I just thought I heard something."

XXX

In the night, things in the desert seemed to come to life, enjoying the cool kiss of the darkness. Well, most of the nocturnal creature of the desert that is. Scorponok was stewing. He had missed his chance with the medic. True, he might have been able to take on the Top kick, but the medic then would be introduced to his presence and be shooting at him before he could even hope to latch onto his back.

The scorpion-drone sank a little lower into the sand, scaring away a snake that had been hiding near him for the heat his engine was giving off.

Primus, he wasn't going to last much longer like this. His pump was starting to make this clicking-stalling noise. It seemed that, perhaps, he would be getting his earlier wish for death with his master. Even if he did have the energy for a few more days, he wouldn't have the strength to actually attack a larger mech.

He was going to starve … wasn't he?

Yet, despite his midnight brooding, a vibration shivered though the sands, like a hand petting down his back. The drone pushed against it and popped his head up in order to see what was above him. His spark skipped a beat. He had one last chance; one chance. Perhaps overpowering his opponent wasn't the only answer here. After all, some jobs called for superior thinking over superior strength.

Bluestreak's grey form danced over a dune. He was heading over to one of the American bases, ready to report to Optimus and their human companions. It had been estimated that, due to the time limit for most droids without a 'parent' fuel source, that Scorponok was probably deactivated. They would need a team with metal detectors to skim this certain area of the desert. Apparently, as stated by an observation Ratchet had made from sinking up to his waist into the sand, that there was a large amount of sand disturbed underneath the sand dunes. It was far too deep to merely be the wind and far too thick to be a normal earth animal.

The gunner didn't know if he should be either happy about this news or sad. He didn't know much about drones, personally. For him they seemed to be something like pets, but other Autobots told him they were just mindless killing assistants; they'd have to be for being with the Deceptions. To 'Blue, there seemed to be more to the story than that. It just seemed to him that these mindless drones were just too … spirited. He hadn't fought one directly in battle, but from his observations in his sniping, the little things seem to cherish their owners. They'd even die for them.

The mech pushed the thought to the back of his CPU. He could dwell on that later. Right now … he had to focus on whatever was in the sand before him.

Slowly, the gunner inched closer to what looked like a metallic scrap in the sand. His engine almost stalled for a moment when his headlights reflected off the glass of a dead … optic. There was no denying it; it was Scorponok. Quickly transforming and bringing out his gun, the mech made his way carefully towards the still figure. Yet, the closer he drew to the downed being, the more lax he became. Soon, he stood above the dead drone, his scanners telling him a simple truth. There was virtually no energy left in the little droid. He had starved to deactivation.

"Poor thing," whispered the grey gunner, his door wings drooping. Yah, he knew that was a dumb to have such soft sparked thoughts, after all this was war. But, despite that truth, he found himself kneeling down on one knee and patting the droid in an almost loving way. "There, there, soon you'll be with your master. Now, let's see who can help me."

But, just as the gunner readied himself to call out to his companions, the 'dead' droid suddenly sprang to life tale whipping around the young mech's neck and pulling him face first into the earth. Then, with a twist of sand, the scorpion-droid was on the Autobot's back, tail raised high into the air ready to bow to the earth and into the gunner's back.

Yet, before the drone could even hope to insert into the other's back, he felt the gunner's systems start to heat up and his pump wail as the grey mech started to thrash in order to get his body away from his attacker. The drone had forgotten the heat of a host, the heat of a healthy engine full of energon. The scorpion transformer tried to keep equilibrium despite the thrashing body below him. He had to inject correctly the first time or risk killing the new host and interfering with his feeding. It was a necessity that he calm his host's movements in order to download the necessary host programs so he could feed. Yes, the first few weeks would be messy, being that his new caretaker's form would be recalibrating in order to provide for two and not just one, but he'd feed heartily compared to the last two weeks that he had been starving.

The grey mech, suddenly stilled when he heard something come from his back that wasn't a gun, it sounded … like a drill. Before the limber sharpshooter could do more than peak over his shoulder, he saw the drone's tail rise into the air, tip spinning like a mine drill, and the next thing he knew he had collapsed onto the ground entirely with a gurgled scream. There was the sound of cracking metal like a building falling to its knees, and a warm spurt of fluid suddenly exploding over his innards and down his back like boiling water from a geyser. It seemed that the little monster was twisting his inner wiring like cotton candy to a stick until the plastic tubing could take no more pressure, thrusting coolant and other liquids into the gunner's chest where it shorted out chips and overloaded pain receptors. And then there was something else. The little parasite was not only drilling into him physically, but his mind as well.

Blue was about to throw out another blood wrenching scream, when he felt one of the claws yank itself none to gently from his pinned shoulder and slam his head into the sands, muffling his agony and probably silencing any cry for help. The young mech soon found himself flaying at this point, digging into the sands with his fingers in order to try and make a desperate escape. True, the drilling had stopped and his automated system was already trying to heal … but the invading appendage was still in there! Plus, the drone's mental attacks were getting stronger and stronger. Blue knew he had to get away; he had to get away now!

Scorponok felt the tenseness in his body slowly loosen. His new host's struggles were growing weaker and weaker by the moment. He was giving into his new stance readily, except for the host program. It had to be accepted so he could properly feed, but the fraggin gunner's firewalls were persistent. Perhaps, he just needed a little … jolt.

Bluestreak found himself wishing he had tears to shed, because he wanted to drown in them. He had no idea what was going on except that he had been attacked by Blackout's drone, which was now in his back, trying to hack into his system. It wanted something, but what? He wasn't a top officer. What could he possibly have that the monster wanted? What could be –

A jolt slammed into his systems, stalling all thoughts… and firewalls.

Scorponok's engine purred as he felt his new host's movement's start to stall, his engine struggling to repair, yet his CPU still fought to remain awake. True, he himself was low on energy, but soon he'd get to feed and indulge in the memories of his new master. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. He'd be able to explore the other mech's memories freely … and be able to wander away from the memory of Blackout's destruction.

But first … the last hurtle.

Bluestreak's vocalizer was only allowed a pathetic squeak into the sands as one more jolt of electricity was sent through his systems, his optics shimmering and his body going limp. The drone merely shivered in relief as the programs started to download into his new host while some well needed nourishment traveled upward towards him. As the energy lapped over his system, Scorponok found himself oddly content and quickly curled up on top of his new master, his engine starting to fall into a soft recharge. He wasn't worried. Even if the Autobot did wake up before him, he knew this 'Bluestreak' wouldn't kill him nor rat him out. After all, only Decepticon's had drones.

XXX

Paw07: My, Wiik E. sure is my kind of reader; she seems to think the same way I do. She wants a story about the less observed characters. She even gave me two ideas of what she wanted her gift fic to be about. I like them both, but for now I'll concentrate on this one, so don't be too surprised to see a fic about Fred in the near future.

Also, you Scorponok fans, if you liked this I recommend **Replacement** and **Replacement: Roads** by **Dragon of Despair**; then there's the short drabble, **Vigil** by **CasusFere**, that made me fall in love with Scorpy to begin with. These two writers heavily impacted me and my belief of the little drone. Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Youngling Troubles

Chapter 2: Troubled Younglings

XXX

It had not been a surprise, really it hadn't, when Scorponok was woken from a well needed rest by a strangling cry, his body suddenly be smacked off the warm surface. Lying on his back, half buried in the sand, and a little grumpy that his new master had just thrown him aside, the drone just laid there on his back for a moment, his feet up in the air. He listened patiently to his new fuel source panic and scooted as far from him as he could. Slowly, with an irritated whine, Scorponok used his tail to do a power flip, and he was quickly too his many feet and looking at his new master.

His new host was sitting there, shivering and sniveling like a lost sparkling, Bluestreak's head trying to crane backwards and see what had been done to his back. Scorponok didn't see why. The host's systems were rather well off and healing nicely now that his systems knew what the hole was for. Besides, the port was well hidden between the two wing-like extensions on his master's back, and in time a plate would arrange itself over it after his next transformation to alt mode. No one would be able to tell the difference; except Scorponok that is, being it was his fuel source.

That was another thing; it seemed he wouldn't get to hang onto his host's side like he usual did; true, there was the whole 'Autobots don't like drones' thing, but there was also the fact that his new master was a youngling. His joints were still easily damaged from large amounts of weight if carried for too long, especially since he hadn't yet gotten his upgrade. The upgrade would be nice when it eventually came, seeing as he might be able to convince his blue partner to get a larger form, but the whole youngling thing … still sucked. He'd never had a partner that was younger than him. Of course, he'd never had an Autobot partner either. The scorpion-bot made a ckrrr-ing noise attracting the Autobot's attention from the once-wound on his back.

Blue just sat there, his fingers still trying to feel what had been done to him, but now he realized … that the drone was still there. He hadn't merely drill a hole in his back and left him there to die. No, it was just sitting there silently with a bored look in its optics as if it were waiting for something. What-what was going on here? Primus, his back hurt, every system hurt as if his insides had been rearranging themselves as he rested, his spark was even acting strange, and there were hundreds of commands popping up on his hub asking for acceptance. Wh-why did he have these new programs? Hadn't the little monster been trying to steal information, not implant it?

Wait … programs had been uploaded? Did-did the drone implant a part of himself?

A sickness suddenly came over the gunner as he read the command requests. No it couldn't, there was no way, only-only Decepticon's had drones. That's what every last acceptance message was about. They were for new programs for his … drone. The gunner lurched forward, his hand slipping over his mouth as the contents in his tank lurched upward as the realization hit him. He had a drone. Autobots didn't have drones … could he even call himself an Autobot anymore? The mech suddenly couldn't keep his tank still and his system lurched upward, forcing the energon out of his tank, over his dental plating, and through his fingers. The youth struggled to keep the rest of the contents that weren't dripping through his fingers down, yet it was not meant to be. The tremors kept slamming into his abdominal region and with a gurgling sound of his sputtering engines, Bluestreak fell forward onto his hands and knees. Soon, a choking sputtering noise filled the desert's landscape, the grey mech releasing the contents of his tank again.

What a waste of good energon. That was all that the symbiot thought as he watched the blue glowing liquid drip into the sand and disappear into nothing more than a wet spot. He didn't blame his new master though. Half of his insides were slowly rearranging themselves; it had to be disorienting and probably painful. Maybe he should see if he could comfort his master. When Blackout had taken him in, Scorponok had sent a comforting effecting through the bond. It relaxed the spark and forcing the new host's mind elsewhere. But first he had to get closer. The bond was far too young for him to do such a thing without nearly being on top of his master or plugging in.

Crawling forward, a good deed in mind, the drone gained his master's gaze again. He chirp in wonder, but only got a frightened whine from the youngling.

"G-get away," cried the youth as he threw a rock at the scorpion being who easily dodged it. A whine escaped the blue mech at this, and he hurriedly tried to crawl up a sand dune and away from his unwelcomed partner, a sobbing noise escaped his engine the whole time. Scorponok merely rubbed his claws together in confusion as he tilted his head. That had not been what he was expecting when his new host would wake up. Yes, distress would be normal, but this was far beyond that. He was picking up fear from the growing connection between Bluestreak and his bond. Not the normal fear of confusion, like why his body was acting funny, why he wasn't dead, why his spark felt odd, or why he was being followed by a scorpion-mech about a third of his size. No, his new host and master was scared of something else … it almost felt like the fear one feels about death.

Why would his small master be thinking such a thing? Scorponok was going to protect him, and Blue would protect him in return. It was perhaps a forced symbiotic uplink, but it was still symbiotic in nature.

With a whirl of his tail, the confused drone dived into the earth, following not only the rhythmic beat through the young and frail connection but the sound of heavy footsteps as well. He merely followed his grey master. Scorponok did not rise to greet the afternoon air, his new host was greatly stressed and being that the connection was still too immature, he couldn't ask what directly his master was upset about. He would merely have to observe what the cause of this distress was for now. That was always a big problem with finding a new host. As a drone, Scorponok didn't have the ability to speak, but that didn't mean he wasn't sentinel like so many Autobots liked to believe when they were shooting at him. He could communicate … only through a bond link. So, his communication was limited to one other being, but this was a symbiotic relationship; why did he need to talk to anyone else?

A few minutes passed without many events occurring; a scorpion stung at one of his legs when he had moved to quickly, the sun rose a little higher in the sky, the temperature rose, and the youngling continued to cry until his systems started hiccupping from stress, causing the youth to stop and merely sit there, staring at the sand beneath his fingers. Nothing was revealed of Bluestreak's distress though, and that left the drone downcast. He was hoping to win a little favor with his new master after comforting him from whatever was causing the added stress to the Autobot's new situation, but there had not been one name cursed, one thing screamed at, or even one death threat to any person; his new master was silent in his sorrows. Scorponok wilted at his … were Autobots always so quiet when they were mad? He used to love to watch his old caretakers swear up a fit … except for it if had to do with him.

A soft click escaping the worried drone, and Scorponok made his ways over to his master, pushing as much comfort as he could though the weak bond. In exchange, the youth let out a wail of agony, his crying returned. His cries now mixed with words as he glared at the drone.

"W-why? I don't w-want to be scrap-ped. I-I-I-I don't want t-to be used for spare parts … not again," whimpered the small mech as he pulled his knees into his chest, his door wings falling in a saddened tune as a memory thrusted itself through the new bond.

_It was pooling … pooling everywhere. It was so warm, like-like energon. It was spilling upon the earth in gallons it seemed. It was getting everywhere … and it was on him. Wh-whose energon was this? Who was injured? He was the only one around; he was … a sharp pain finally ran up Bluestreak's form and he looked down … it was his energon. W-where had his legs gone?_

The memory ran through Scorponok like hot irons, and he couldn't help but cringe backwards like he had just been hit. The first memory they had shared through the bond and it was so painful. It was not unheard of for young mechs to become traumatized from experiences of severe injury, and thus would be slightly frightened of every injury that followed. A Decepticon would die shortly if he didn't get over a fear like that quickly, being that they did a lot of their own repairs. Tuh_, weak Autobot sentiments, they mothered him after his injury and now he's scared of his own wounds_. Well, he'd deal with it when it came, but first he needed to calm his master down.

Taking a gasp of cool air into his vents, the drone headed forward. He was probably going to get hit or even kicked once or twice, but he had a feeling that the Autobot would be a lot more gentle about his new situation than if he had forced it on a 'Con. Pulling himself up to his master, he stilled, waiting for the pain. Nothing came. The youngling just continued to bawl into his legs. Chirpling softly, Scorponok grew more daring and walked a circle around his master, chirping again and rubbing his claws together as if asking permission. When nothing but more wailing escaped the new master, the drone laid down, wrapping his tail around his master's body as well as he could in the sand.

The blue mech flinched, staring in almost a frightened manner down at his new pet. A rather loud whine escaped the youth's engine and he shakily put out a hand and testing-ly touch the unwanted companion. Then, as if it were a biting test, used both hands to push the symbiot as far as he could away from his body, which, in the end, was only like a yard. Bluestreak then pulled his head back into his knees and continued his mourning, as if saying goodbye to his existence.

Scorponok sat there a moment, staring in shock. Well, that was anticlimactic. Here he was expecting a punch or to at least to be yelled at, but no, just a gentle shove. At least it seemed that this new relationship wasn't going to be painful, even though his master did have some injury issues. Chirping again, the drone pulled himself up against the Autobot's shin while wrapping his tale all the way around the shivering body, rubbing his head comfortingly against the youth's leg.

And once again, Blue gently shoved it away. The process continued for at least four more times until the youngling finally stopped trying to push the drone away and let the close contact continue, his sobbing commencing. The scorpion mech merely resumed its earlier mission of trying to be as close as possible to Bluestreak, his form incasing the youth with his tail and rubbing against the Autobot's leg.

Primus, what was he going to do? Th-this thing had drilled into his back and nearly killed him; now it wouldn't leave him alone. There was no questioning it now though … the thing had not been trying to kill him last night, Scorponok was looking for a new host, and Blue had been his ticket. What was he going to do! Decepticon's only had drones. It was not an Autobot thing to have a drone. Autobot's didn't have parasitic murderers for pets. He was going to be punished … they were going to take parts off him one at a time … while he was still online … energon pooling everywhere … like last time.

Finally, too tired to cry, Blue dared to look down at his newest and unwanted partner. The drone looked up at his with his huge optics and chirped. If he didn't know what this thing was capable of, Bluestreak would have thought it cute.

"Why'd you do this to me?" whimpered the youth.

"Currr-Chirp?"

"I'm going to be branded as a traitor … and … and the medics are going to … to … I don't want to die like that!" almost screamed the sniper.

"Kurp?"

"Don't you get it? We are both going to die! One look at me and-and they'll know!"

"Fffrrrrh!"

"We're both going to die and there's –"

"Bluestreak, is that you?" suddenly came a voice over one of the sand dunes. "Come on kid! Scream, making fun of Ratchet for all I care! Just let me know you're okay!"

Blue went silent, even his vents going still. He didn't know why it didn't cross his mind earlier, but it would make since that his team was looking for him. He had left last night, never showed up at the base, and it was well into the afternoon. Slag! He had to get out of here before they found him and –and ripped out his parts one by one until he was a bleeding pile of energon.

Nearly scrambling over the shocked drone who was trying to burrow into the earth, Bluestreak tried to clamor over the top of the other sand dune before Ironhide – yes, only Ironhide would make a crack like that about Ratchet – could see him. He had to get out of here before anyone saw what had happened to –

Clang!

The gunner's spark literally froze as he ran into a heavy metal chest, nearly falling back onto his behind from the force but two heavy green arms reached out suddenly, keeping him from falling back down the dune. His vents nearly seized as he looked upward into the dull, worried optics of Ratchet. His mind freezing in fear, Bluestreak's knees gave out but the CMO kept him standing while another being blocked him in from behind.

"Ratchet, you found the kid! He okay?" said a tired looking Ironhide as he looked the youngling up and down, his eyes stopping at the kid's mid-back. His optics dulled for a moment … was that dried energon on his back, and what was with his door wings. They seemed to be hiding something; they were bowed far lower and closer to his back than usual. Yet, before he could even think it over, a voice drew him from his thoughts.

"I don't know; are you alright Bluestreak?" asked Ratchet as he rubbed his thumbs against the plating his hands were on. "You seem … disoriented."

The youngling looked up at him and then behind himself. Where was the gunfire? Where were the cries of 'traitor'? Where was … anything. Daring himself to look downward to see if Ironhide had merely stepped over the drone, the youngling spotted nothing, not even indentions in the sand. H-had he imagined the whole thing?

"Bluestreak? Can you tell me what happened? Do you need immediate medical attention?" said the medic, pulling the youth from his glances at the sand as his form tightened.

"N-no, Ratchet. I-I was just scared. I got lost in the desert last n-night and have been wandering since," said Bluestreak in a drowned tone as he struggled to keep himself from panicking.

The CMO frowned, throwing a scan over the youngling which the youth physically cringed from. There seemed something odd about the being's systems, but he really couldn't concentrate on that when something far more important came to light. The elder mech quickly let go of the youth who was now supporting himself, opening a compartment in his leg and pulling out a glowing blue cube.

"I darest say you must have," said Ratchet as he placed the cube in the gunner's shaking hands. "You're energy levels are extreme low, and there seems to be something wrong with your systems. Here, sit down and let me plug into your systems. From my outer scans your spark seems slightly distressed. The heat might have got to you and I –"

The gunner's wings tightened and he nearly crushed the cube in his hand. He quickly swallowed, knowing the medic would know something was wrong right away if he got even a peak at his systems. H-he couldn't let Ratchet touch him … ever again.

"N-no, I'm just tired Ratchet. Can we just get back to the others, I'm tired," whispered the grey mech as he took a step closer towards the Weapon's Specialist, his optics taken on a frightened look.

It was not a look that didn't go unnoticed by the medic and neither did the dried energon on the youth's back as Ironhide helped the shivering kid down the sand dune. Something had happened last night. Something bad enough that for the first time in his life ... Bluestreak wished to be silent. No worries though, Ratchet always found everything out, always.

XXX

Paw07: Trust me … there is a huge part of the plot behind that partial memory Bluestreak had. It's going to be sad when you figure it out as well. 'I is going to makes yous cry.'


	3. Bunkmates

Chapter 3: Bunkmates

XXX

Ironhide groaned as he stepped off the plane, shaking his body, "About time that ride ended. That sand in my joints was making me itch. Ugh, it's going to take forever to get it all that sand out."

Ratchet came out of the military plane as well, his form transforming as he shook himself sending sand on all the nearby soldiers whom all yipped and groaned about needing a shower now, "At least you weren't buried half way in it, slagger."

Then, as if on cue, the two mechs jumped out of the way with heavy grunts as a flash of yellow slammed itself out of the back of the huge, cargo plane. Bumblebee's tires squealed as he did a u-turn of sort, his tires sending up smoke. He sat there a second, his engine growling twice before the tires seemed to jump off the ground, his body transforming out of its alt mode. He quickly stood, dancing a few steps to the moon walk before he pointed at the older mechs. Both mechs gave him bored looks, typical Bumblebee behavior.

"Come on guys, that Sandbox wasn't that bad! You try sliding down one of those sand dunes? It's like surfing," said the youth, his speakers playing a quick phrase to Surfing USA.

The two older mechs just shook their heads, and then simultaneously glared at the youngling, crossing their arms over their chests as they waited for the other youngling to exit. A moment passed and their frowns grew deeper. The yellow youth, catching the scent of old-mech-grumpiness, quickly chirped and looked back into the plane's innards, calling out, "Come on Bluestreak! Optimus wants us to give him a report of what we found down there or what we didn't find to be exact."

Bluestreak tightened in his alt mode, his form gripping to the shadows like a scared raccoon. He knew that the older mechs had been watching him since they had left the desert. He didn't blame them. The youngling knew he had been silent and sleepless for the past two days since the incident, clinging to the adults as if afraid to be alone. They had noticed, there was no doubt about it. Ratchet had even asked him if there was anything wrong.

Thinking of a quick lie, the youth merely stated he was a little paranoid after being alone in the desert for a night. He knew it was a satisfactory answer for wanting to recharge next to the elder mechs, but he knew there was no excuse for his clinginess in the daylight and his silence as if he were trying to listen for something beneath the sands. What else was he supposed to do? The drone was not gone. He felt it in his spark chamber if he was still long enough. Scorponok was always touching and gripping, trying to find his partner. Using all the strength in his spark, Blue always tried to draw away from the feeling, but it was painful when he'd do that. Flinching would only gain Ratchet's attention, so he tried to remain neutral, allowing the drone to push into the bond but never responding back. At least the 'touch' was weaker now that he was on a different continent. In fact, it almost felt dead. Bluestreak could only blame it on the distance. For the first time he was glad Earth had such deep, blue oceans. No mech or drone would try to make such a journey on the ocean's bottom and even if it did, it would take weeks. He was safe … for now.

"C-coming," said the grey youth as he drew out of the plane slowly, staying in his alt mode as the youth waited for the others to stop stretching so they could head back to base. He was in pain, a slight ache. He knew it would be painful to transform, that's why he was waiting. It was as if his body was rearranging itself. True, it was nowhere as painful as waking from after being attacked by the fiend, but at least the following pains where nowhere near as dreadful as his first transformation. He had nearly passed out from the pain, but at least it looked like he was just in for an exhausted recharge. The next morning he would admit he was grateful for the pain though. Checking his back when he was finally alone, he found that he no longer had to hide the hole in his back by dipping his wings.

Despite the fact that it was nowhere near as painful as his first transformation, he didn't find himself wanting to transform in the view of the others. Who knew what changes it had made while he had been in alt mode this whole time? Maybe it was going to continue like this until he looked almost like Blackout. The youth shivered at the thought, but tried to bury the reaction by starting his engine and roaring forward, making it look like a race was about to break out with the other youth.

He did not disappoint.

"I'm going to beat you there, Bee! Eat my dirt!" cried Bluestreak as if nothing life changing had happened in the past few days, his wheels spiting up gravel. The other youngling's engine roared and he chased after his brother in arms, laughter escaping his speakers.

Ratchet and Ironhide stood there watching the youths' race. It was a long journey back to Hoover Dam, their new head quarters courtesy of the American Government. They figured it was the least they could do after the incident with Bumblebee. Not that Bumblebee was very thankful. He had stayed at Sam's house for three weeks, trying to ignore that place, but in the end, when some younger mechs like Bluestreak had showed up, he came to the base to strangely … play. The younglings were always at battle, fighting for their lives and right to exist, so they never got to play like mechs their age should have. So, making up for lost time, Bumblebee was driving the older mech's crazy. Bluestreak had been as well, talking up a storm, but now he was silent, his spark drowned in fear.

Fear was something old mech's could notice easily.

"Something's up with Bluestreak," said Ironhide just as Ratchet opened his mouth to speak as well.

Ratchet turned his head, a frown forming on his face, "You noticed as well?"

"It was hard not to. Primus, I had been cringing about the ride back with that little motor mouth, but the trip back was even worse than I thought with his uncharacteristic silence. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he kept clinging to Bumblebee like he knew I wanted to talk to him."

"I noticed, and it also bothers me that he wanted to recharge by us for the past few days. Generally, he'd hang out with Bumblebee given their close age, but I have a feeling something's bothering him. I think his current behavior has to do with the desert incident … and the energon that was on his back," said Ratchet as he glared at the parting piles of dust.

Ironhide stiffened, "You noticed that too?"

"I'm a medic. I notice everything, like that limp you've been trying to hide since the first night in the desert. I'm going to have to give you an exam and maybe take that leg apart if sand got into one of your old war wounds," said the medic as a grin rose on his face, his optics still looking forward.

The Weapon Specialist took a step to the side and coughed. It was not a well hidden fact that Ironhide hated checkups. He'd fight, growl, ignore, and pull rank as often as he could to get out of any medical care that wasn't immediate battle repair. That was why Optimus almost always had Ratchet and Ironhide on staff together. The CMO was the only one not afraid of the old mech's medical objection.

"It's nothin'," said the old mech as he tried to resist the urge to rub his hip with his free hand. "I'm more worried about Blue. You think he was attacked by the drone in the desert? It would explain why he's been jumpy, but it doesn't make since that he wouldn't tell us about it."

Ratchet shrugged, "I don't know, but I guess we'll find out. Come on, let's get moving before the youngling's get too far ahead of us. We'll just keep an eye on him 'till he's ready to tell us what's wrong."

XXX

Bluestreak couldn't get out of the debriefing room fast enough. He had kept everything about his masquerade in the desert a simple lie of misdirection. He hoped sincerely that Ratchet's find of an ungrounded burrow would appease their commander's worry on the matter and the subject would fall into a distance memory. That was a best case scenario, of course. Who knew what the aftereffects of abandoning a drone would be, or if there were any, at all. The youngling hoped not. He had taken to ignoring the medical bays since that day when he was … was … the youth buried the thought before it would come back and bite him. He just wanted to refuel and recharge. He might have recharged next to the older mechs but he didn't get much recharge in. He had new nightmares to haunt him after all.

Making a quick detour to the rec. room, he grabbed a cube not even bothering to look to see who was in the room. That didn't mean he went unnoticed by everyone else. Kup, Perceptor, and Prowl looked up, their conversation ending as the youth all but rushed in the room. They all waited for him to run over to them his mouth running a mile a minute about his latest 'sand adventure'. The tale never even came though; no introduction, no excited banter about earth, and nothing else of that nature. Bluestreak merely grabbed a cube, downed it, and then exited before any of them could even say a word to him. In fact, they all sat there a minute waiting for him to come hopping back in like some kind of happy pup. Yet, when nothing came, the exhausted looks became worried ones.

"That was an abnormality for our adolescent repartee machine, was it not?" asked Perceptor as he looked at the two other mechs.

For a minute, the two other Autobots just gave him a look until they computed what he said. Prowl quickly replied, "I can only assume that something happened in the desert … I would know if a certain CMO hadn't directed me in this direction, stating I had to refuel before he'd debrief me."

The two other bots chuckled, Smokescreen creeping up and joining the group, a cube in hand, "How is it going my dear Aces. We taking bets on why the youth isn't talking us all into deactivation. It was his first off-base mission on Earth, after all."

Prowl frowned, wanting to lecture the mech on proper military etiquette, but Kup interrupted the mech, "You'h think one of us should go talk to the kid?"

"No, I think we should take bets on him, and then we can go and see what's wrong," said the wise aft as he stirred his drink with a rust stick.

Prowl's glare, if it were possible, become more of a scowl. His wings were twitching as well. Yet, before the official could come out with a remark, there was the sound of a tussle in the hallway and Ironhide sauntered into the room, rubbing his leg. Ratchet followed after, griping something about the medical bay. The slight fight still dragging on, the two older mechs grabbed cubes at the dispenser and sat down with the rest of the mechs at the table.

"After this cube, Ironhide, and then it's to the medical bay with you. That limp has gotten worse," said the medic, glaring at the other bot before he turned to his other table-mates, "Kup, Perceptor, Prowl, Smokescreen."

"Hello Ratchet. How was the journey?" said Perceptor as his head perked up, part of him hoping that someone had brought some dirt samples back for him to examine. "Hopefully, one of your retain the information that I wanted you to transport back some mineral collections of the desert's rock bed?"

Ratchet looked at the scientist for a minute before throwing a look over at the grumpy looking Ironhide, "No, but if Ironhide ever lets me clean out his hip and all the sand he collected in it, I can get you some samples Perceptor."

The red scientist seemed to beam at the thought and gave Ironhide a wink. The black mech merely glared back, taking another sip of his cube.

"So," said Smokescreen, a slightly traitorous grin on his facial plates. "What happened on your little trip?"

Ironhide looked up and stated simply with a grin, "What? Bluestreak didn't talk your adios off while he was in here?"

The mech's shook their heads, Smokescreen stating, "He didn't say a thing that I could bet on. I take it that either it was the most boring trip ever, which Bluestreak would still consider the most exciting thing ever, or something bad happened? Did the drone try to eat him or something, or did Ironhide start recollecting about his old bonding couples?"

A collection of snorts and chuckles escaped some of the more carefree mechs at the table; the two new patrons frowned, the laughter stopping immediately. Smokescreen's grin even disappeared.

"H-he wasn't attacked, was he?" said the orange mech as he quickly tightened, his usual get-rich-quick attitude draining down the pipe he dared to call a mouth.

The two older mechs looked at each other, and then Ratchet spoke, his frown deep, "We don't know, to tell the truth. He was alone for a whole night, lost in the desert. We tried to press him for a while about what happened, but he was determined not to say anything."

The other mechs all went still, especially Prowl. It was not a hidden fact that the mech kept a special optic on the youth. Many wondered if it was because the youth didn't have a caretaker of his own. Prowl always a stickler for protocol, stated that younglings were supposed to have caretakers. It didn't matter if it was in the middle of a war, the youth needed care. Yet, with all the chaos with trying to find the Allspark, the youngling had passed through the cracks, but not from his thoughts. It was well known that even though Prowl always on the same base as the youth, Prowl frequently tried to get him a full time caretaker.

"What has his behavior been like? Perhaps we can conclude what happened by observing it?" said the enforcer with a worried look.

Ratchet looked at the other mech, knowing that calculating glance any day. Then, breaking down his metal notes which he was going to add to the youth's physiology files later, he stated, "He has been jumpy, frightened as if he's afraid of something. He has even been clinging to us older adults at night. He's probably been having nightmares."

There were frowns all around. Bluestreak was a good kid and all the older mechs tried to look out for him, being that he didn't have anyone personally. Looking at each other, Ironhide finally spoke, reading everyone's mind, "So, whose going to go talk with the kid?"

Everyone exchanged looks as if trying to mentally draw straws, but before anyone could even open their mouth, the sound of old shifting gears filled the room and Kup spoke softly, "I think I will go talk to him. You all have places to be after all … I have nobody at the moment. "

The group was silent as they watched him go, their lips all tight as they waited for him to disappear from sight. Then, as if reading each other's minds, Ratchet stated in a sullen tone, "He really is taking Hot Rod's disappearance badly, isn't he?"

Prowl merely nodded, putting down his now empty cube and standing, ready to leave as well.

"Yes, he is," added the Second in Command as he quickly departed, his thoughts drowning his processor. Maybe, just maybe, his worries for the young gunner had just answered itself in a more permanent way then everyone else had in mind.

XXX

Bluestreak stared at the shadows of his room for a minute, his own shadow seeming to want to join the darkness. Why was his room dark? The young mech struggled not to panic; it was fairly obvious that someone had turned off his lights. He never turned them off. They would at least be on two percent power, but never off. He couldn't take the dark … not after his _injuries_.

_He tried to keep quiet. Not a sob escaped him as he lied in the dark, his whole body aching, but he couldn't risk it. Someone might hear him and come. It didn't matter which side would come, Decepticon or Autobot. He knew that they would be happy … not because he was still clinging to life … but because he was so close to death. He was still fresh._

_The youngling continued to remain still, hoping his horrors wouldn't come true, but, just as he was about to fall into recharge, he heard a footstep. Tightening, the youth started to drag his shredded body closer to a pile of leaking and hole ridden corpses. They looked like Decepticon corpses, but he welcomed the old, dead mechs as if they were his caretaker. Using his still useful arm, he dragged himself underneath one corpse. His form threatened to shiver as he felt a collection of energon and coolant drip down onto him, but he stilled himself by lying his head on a headless corpse's chest. He offlined his optics and pretended not to hear the voices nearby, pretending that he heard a spark beating below him and that he was lying with a live mech … not a dead one. _

_He was safer here with the dead than the living._

Yet, just as the memory was about to pull him the whole way down into its ever encasing horror that haunted his dreams rather often, something seemed to lurch forward and strike at it as if an armored knight on his white steed had struck and killed a dragon with a single blow. The youth nearly collapsed from the rush that overcame his spark. It was like interfacing, but without the pleasure. Another mind was with his and it forced the fear away without an ounce of trouble or hesitation. The youth merely panted from the charge of other thoughts and feelings, images, yet no words saying calming things. The youngling, giving into the other mind, found himself falling against the wall for support and slowly sliding down.

Gradually, the pain and worry of the memory was lost into the other mind now. Not knowing what else to do, the youngling just concentrated on it, listening to the whispers it had to offer and warm strength. Was this what it felt like to have a spark-mate, where you could feel them all the time? Was it warm and comforting like this? Was … was … the youngling's optics online and he found himself fleeing from the feeling. Primus, no, no, no! This was a bond. Not a spark mate, but … a parasite.

Bluestreak struggled to get to his feet but kept falling back against the wall as another wave of emotions that weren't his washed over him. Now that his fear was drowned for the moment, the other mind was asking questions without words, demanding location, base designs, diagnostics, stasis, and current fuel levels. The youth tried to pull away and hide such information, but he had let the other mind in too deeply a moment ago and it was wondering about in his head as if it had always been there, going down a familiar road.

Then, as quickly as it had come, it had left, whispering promises of seeing him soon. The youngling was merely left there with a new feeling in his chest and thoughts full of worry. He had accepted the slagger's part of the bond to push away the memory; now, it was fully cemented into him. With a small click from his vocal processor, Bluestreak pulled his knees into his chest. It was coming for him and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It would sneak into the base, maybe kill someone in the process, and then come feed off him so that the other Autobots could see he was a traitor. Shortly after, they would shoot him and while he bled out onto the floor, they would cannibalize the parts that they needed, not caring that his spark was beating and his optics still online.

Dragging his head into his knees, the grey mech fought not to start clicking like a weeping sparkling. Yet, he was stressed, tired, and now he had a hungry drone coming his way. His-his time was on the countdown. Maybe he should run away. It was something that had crossed his mind after the _incident_. He had to push down the idea though because, at the time, energon was rare and deserters were not treated with a kind hand … by either side. So, he stayed and the thought was forgotten. He had become a sniper instead. It was a well known fact that snipers were either never injured or hit with a kill-shot by another sniper. They rarely saw melee or firsthand battle. He would never risk being so close to death again.

Never again would he be someone's spare parts.

So, the youth sat there, his vents hiccupping. Should he run away? Should he make plans to collect energon secretly and steal an energon transformer? Should he find a nice planet or comet to make his home with his parasite? Never again will his voice chit-chat away in its usual buzzing manner because in no way could he have company. Autobots would shoot at him for having a drone, Decepticons would try to force him into their ranks, and neutrals would be afraid of him. He would be, truly, entirely alone. So, despite himself, the youth started to click and cry away, his vents stuttering. What did it matter if he cried? He was alone, after all; no one was there to see him.

Kup stopped in the hall, his fist stalling itself from knocking on the Bluestreak's door. He drew his head a little closer to the door, listening. There seemed to be clicking … no, crying. The old mech sighed, knowing the sound far too well. He had taken care of more than one youngling in his day, and knew there was only one way to deal with this. Pushing, on the comm. link located outside the door by the key pad, the older mech spoke, "Bluestreak, its Kup, please let me in."

He then heard the choking of vents as the youngling struggled to drown his cries, answering hurriedly, "I-click-I'm busy right now. Come back later."

Kup, in his old age, did not have the patience to play this game. He frowned and stated simply, "Either yah open the door youngling, or I get Prowl to open it for me."

There was a choking noise, and then a whining sound before there was a screech, the door swishing open. The youth stood there, trying to look as if there was nothing wrong, but his wings were twitching and dragged down towards the floor. Kup himself didn't have wings but he knew enough mechs that did to know it was a way to show sadness or any emotion located in that field. Maybe he should have let Ratchet deal with this. He always hated this part.

Giving a weak smile, the youth quickly spoke, "W-what's up, Kup?"

The elder shook his head, knowing this game all too well. Giving a dry look, the old mech stated, "No need to try and hide it, youngling. Just tell me now what bothered you in the desert? I could hear your clicking all the way through the door so whatever it was, it was bad. Best to come clean now."

Bluestreak tightened, his vocal processor whining as he took a frightened step backward. He quickly looked over his shoulder, as if looking for a door, but then looked back at the older mech. He couldn't run away. Quickly throwing his gaze to the floor, the grey mech whispered, "I-I don't want to talk about it, Kup."

The green mech glared at the youth, he was too old for this. He would not daisy-foot around the youngling's feelings. He had done that in his younger years, but he learned that it was best just to get things out. Leaving them to feaster until the youth was ready was not wise. A simple problem could become a full blown catastrophe. Nope, he wasn't in the mood for this guessing game. Gaining a frown, he stated simply, "Bluestreak, listen kid, I'm an old mech. My joints are rusting as we speak, so either you tell me what's bothering you or I'm leaving."

The youth whimpered as the older mech turned to take a step away, a grin on his face as he set the simple mind game into place, but before he could even take more than one step, a grey hand lashed out and gripped his elbow. Quickly burying the grin he had had on, the old mech looked back and spoke again, "Well, you not going to waste an old mech's time or what?"

Swallowing, the youth looked to the floor and then whispered, "I can't Kup. Please, I just had a bad night at the desert. That's all that's wrong."

Kup really wanted to believe the youth, but with the way he was shaking, things were far worse than a bad night. Turning around, the elder reached out a hand and cupped the youngling's cheek, giving him a slight pat before he started to pull away. Bluestreak suddenly tightened, his wings dropping as if they were drowning. The youngling started to panic, thinking the older mech was leaving him to the parasite that was coming his way, and before he knew it he was clutching to the older mech's hand tightly. With shivering optics, he quickly whimpered, "Please don't leave. I just had a nightmare in the desert. That's all. I just want to recharge, Kup. I haven't been able to recharge in the past few days because if it. I'm just scared of being alone. Please-please don't go."

Kup sighed, knowing the story all too well. Nightmares were something that constantly plagued many younger mechs. Giving into the plea, Kup got his hand free and drew forward, petting the youth on the back softly, trying to make sure he didn't touch the gunner's sensitive wings. Then, deciding that he'd suffer Prowl's wrath later for missing his shift, he took a few steps into the gunner's quarters and towards the only berth in the room, "Come on youngling, if you can't sleep, I'll sleep with you tonight."

The younger mech merely stood there in shock as he watched Kup crawled onto the berth before him, waving for the youngling to crawl on with him. Bluestreak stood there a minute, clicking, slightly surprised by the older mech's offer. It wasn't that mechs didn't sleep together or share berths in a non-sexual way, but mostly such actions were only done between younglings and creators or younglings and caretakers. Kup wasn't his caretaker though. He had Hot Rod. Bluestreak didn't have a caretaker. Nobody wanted him truly, and if they did … they always died shortly afterwards. He never had had a caretaker snuggle with him when he had a nightmare … especially after the _incident_ when he needed one the most.

Almost as if not knowing what to do, the youth continued to stand there, his vents picking up in hiccupped gasps, he was going to start crying again.

As if reading Bluestreak's thoughts, the older mech sat up and took the grey mech by his elbow and willed the slightly smaller mech onto the berth. Bluestreak followed simply, his clicking becoming choking gasps. With a small whisper of _its okay_, the elder mech wrapped his arms around the smaller frame, allowing Bluestreak to bury his head between Kup's neck and chest. Then, once comfortable, the youth continued his earlier crying and clutched to the older being as if he'd fall away from existence if he didn't have an iron hard grasp on Kup's form.

Clicking back in a way that was meant to calm sparklings and younglings, Kup allowed the youth to cry all he wanted. He didn't mind, he knew younglings could be easily upset especially when the world started to calm down. The youth probably wasn't really upset about the nightmare in the desert, but his thoughts in the desert which bore the nightmare. It was a reflection period, and the youth probably couldn't take in the things that had happened to him and what he had done. Bluestreak might have left the desert, but the things he had found there were still haunting him.

XXX

There was a whine as the larger aircraft fell down to the earth like a goose finally ready for rest. The tires squealed as they hit the landing strip, the large beast coming to a loud, grounding, halt. For a minute, all was still, the unloading vehicles dragging up the strip towards the airborne military vehicle. There was a loud clunk though, and suddenly something fell to the ground … something metal. Then, as the lights from the coming vehicles threatened to taste the underbelly of the huge ship, there was a scurrying of many metallic legs. So, when the light fell on the underbelly, there was nothing there. The thing was already scurrying for the grass, one thought on its mind, "_I'm coming master_."

XXX

Paw07: Hope you liked the chapter. I've decided that I'd like to have a beta for this story. So, my loyal readers, if you happen to want to beta for this one just drop a review. I figure that I'd rather have someone who likes the story beta than just pick somebody at random. ^_~


	4. Little Monsters

Thanks to for beta-ing this chapter.

Chapter 4: Little Monsters

XXX

The grasses were tall and dancing. It was like a thousand fingers were reaching upwards tickling his underbelly. Scorponok had giggled – or chirped to be more exact – for the first few seconds after he had crawled into the tall vegetation. At first, after getting off the landing field, he had hated this continent. The air was not chilly at night like it was in the desert. It was cooler, but still muggy. The ground was hard as well. It wasn't soft and shifting like the sands, and he quickly realized that he was now at a disability. He would have trouble attacking from underground. His stealth was diminished as well.

He ignored that though. All he needed was his new Master.

So, he had been walking all night, grabbing a quick ride on a freight train. Luckily, his Master's mind was weak and fragile, haunted by many lost memories. It had made it easy for him to get the information he needed. He also got some semantics to the base and was not shy about abusing the information. He was hungry. That attack had taken more out of him then he knew, and he could no where take as much energy as he needed, his Master needing energy to heal and survive the force link-up. But, from what he understood, his master now had free access to an energon dispenser, and he was probably going to gorge himself for the next few days, his systems readying themselves for the next link-up after his body knowing just how much energy Scorponok needed.

The Scorpion-mech clicked happily, already tasting the sweet energy that was bound to come, but first … he had to figure out how to get across this freeway without being seen.

One huge car pile-up later, a hitchhiked ride on the side of an eighteen-wheeler, and about two hours worth of walking, Scorponok found himself at his final destination. There seemed to be little security, probably because it seemed that Autobots were still busy with construction. There would be security soon enough so it was probably best if he started digging his tunnels and nest now. Clicking his claws together, the drone suddenly dived beneath the surface, a whispering echoing through his mind, "Master."

Bluestreak's optics suddenly snapped online, the word echoing in his head. He had been having a rather pleasant recharge … no dreams, no worries, no nightmares. Offlining his optics, the youngling put more energy into his audios. He didn't hear someone call out to him again; instead, he heard the soft hum of Kup's vents and engine. He forgot how nice it was to have someone to share a berth with. True, he usually had a roommate of some sort, but they were no Care-taker. They were kind, but didn't have the patience that Care-takers did. A guardian would comfort him if he had a nightmare or was too scared to sleep. Yawning and thinking that he had been woken by nothing, Bluestreak was about to lay his head back down the berth when suddenly … the shadows moved.

A gasp caught itself in the young mech's vocalizer at the sight. There was something in the room, and it was getting closer and closer like a living shadow. For a moment, the youth thought he was going to have one of those nightmares where a dead mech would come out of the darkness and ask if he may rest with the youth … like _last_ time. Those were the worst, not because a seemingly dead mech of Autobot or Decepticon origin was asking if they may lay their shredded body next to him and comfort him like their corpses had so long ago … but because he had to remember: every illusion that asked was a real mech from that day; it was a real mech Blue had curled up against when he had been bleeding, hiding and close to dying.

Scorponok froze. There was fear, deep mind-destroying fear coming in waves off his young Master now. What did his Master have to be afraid of? Not him. He had proven his loyalty out in the desert. It had to be that other mech in the room. Yes, the green one curled up against his young host. The slagger was older. He probably had been taking advantage of the young mech, or had hurt his frail feelings in some way. Yes, that was something new as well … frail feelings. Decepticons had a tendency to be lacking in the emotion department except when it came to rage. Well, the emotions weren't entirely unpleasant, but they certainly would take some getting use too.

Either way, the green mech was getting a taste of his tail. Stuttering out of the shadows, the scorpion-mech nearly noiselessly moved forward rising his stinger ready to take out the recharging mech as if it were nothing. Yet, before he was about to slam through the plates of the chassis, a grey hand sprang forward, placing itself over the older mech in an almost protective manner.

"He didn't hurt me," said Bluestreak, saying the words as if on instinct. He wasn't sure why he had said them, but something in the bond was telling him that that was what he had to say in order to protect the older mech from his newest … problem. Strangely, Scorponok stilled, drew his tail downward, clicking softly upward at the mech.

"How'd you get here," said Blue, his optics brightening suddenly at the noise that escaped his mouth. For a moment all he could feel was the bond and forgot Kup; now he was eyeing the recharging mech like he was the man to pull the switch to the electric chair. After a quick breem of holding his breath, his vents silent and his body overheating, did Bluestreak threaten a sigh. His hands shook as he slowly lifted up the green mech's intertwined limbs from his. For the first time, the youngling kind of regretted that Caretaker's nearly suffocated their Charges. It was something that he had been craving since he lost his Creators, but he couldn't risk the older mech waking and seeing the drone.

Slowly, with a tense ease he managed to move Kup's arms, stilling from time to time when a grunt would escape the elder. Finally, sliding off the berth and gently placing the arm back on the berth, the gunner looked down at the drone. He knew not if he should be praying that it had not been the memory of a corpse to come visit him or that he should be glad that it was nothing more than a clingy drone. Both seemed bitter, but at least the later was alive.

Swallowing, his hands shaking, he moved forward. Bluestreak couldn't believe he was about to touch the drone purposely, but he didn't want Kup to wake up and stare at him with optics filled with horror and disgust. He could not bear that … not from Kup … not from Prowl … not from anyone. So, he'd touch the drone and get him out of the base before anyone could see his shame.

Slowly, he knelt down, wrapping his arms around the drone as if it was a big dog, and he was nothing but a child. Scorponok, at first, was surprised and flailed his legs as he was pulled off the ground. He did not like being held like this. True, the bond eased a bit being so close to his new Master's spark, but this was uncomfortable. Despite himself, the scorpion-bot let out a rather loud whine and almost was dropped.

"Quiet!" whimpered Blue as he struggled to keep the squirming 'bot in his arms while at the same time trying to place a hand over Scorponok's vocal processor. "Or you won't get fed."

The young-bot froze, his wings shivering. F-fed? Where had that come from? N-no. Oh, Primus. There was a program that had been on his HUD since he woke up, and he hadn't noticed it. I-it had been readying his systems for energy conversion and symbiot support. Bluestreak's fingers could no longer hold onto the thing in his grasp, fear and disgust was crawling up his spine. I-if he fed it, it would keep coming back, and sooner or later he'd be gutted for his parts. A small sob escaped the gunner's vocalizer, and he dropped the scorpion-mech, Blue's body falling backwards against the wall.

He started shaking his head, "No, no. I'm not going too."

Scorponok's red optics gleamed in the darkness, and he tilted his head, a whine escaping the drone's vocals as it drew neared, its claws reaching forward as if asking to be picked back up again. Blue knew it wasn't asking to be picked up as if a child, it wanted to feed off Bluestreak as if he had a tit on which to suck. He was no Creator. He was no pawn. He was not a free meal. He was not a Decepticon.

"No, go away," whispered the youth, his arms surrounding himself. "Autobots don't have drones. J-just go away, okay. I now you don't like me. J-just leave me alone. I won't tell anyone you were here. Go find a Decepticon or something."

Scorponok ignored the plea and all but crawled up his Master now, whining loudly and caring less if the green mech woke. He was hungry. Yes, he knew the youngling was scared; all hosts were always scared or paranoid during the first feeding … even Decepticons. It was normal. He'd ease Bluestreak through it, he wouldn't push too hard. He didn't care if it took a few hours to get the youth calmed down and to start his feeding programs properly. He knew what to expect, and if the bond was stronger he could tell the frightened mech that there was nothing to be scared of. There would be a slight ache and maybe a jolt when he plugged into Bluestreak's systems, but he'd be able to comfort the gunner through the bond much easier.

Yet, no matter how hard he pushed the feeling of reassurance through the bond, Bluestreak still remained panicked, his body sliding down the wall towards the door. Master wasn't going to run, was he? It would only hurt them both if he did that. The youth wasn't going to make Scorponok force him, was he?

XXX

Ratchet yawned and rubbed his face as he sat down at his desk. He knew that he should be in recharge like the rest of the base, but he had work to do. During the meeting with Prime, he had been informed that they had just received a communication that another unit was heading their way. Soon enough the ship would land on the moon, and Ratchet would be helping Grappler and Hoist build a short range spacebridge that would connect the planned Autobot City on the moon with their present base in the Hoover Dam. He had to admit he was rather glad to know more Autobots were alive and well, but at the same time he was wondering if he should throw himself off the dam now or later. The ship had over twenty men … and not one _real_ medic. He'd never get a break between injuries, outdated maintenance checks, the building of Autobot City on the moon, and training new medics.

Free time was never really free time in the life of a medic.

Well, since the ship was still a few weeks off, he'd get some of the men's maintenance work in before he had more soldiers that he could handle. He wasn't sure where to start with the maintenance, so picking soldiers alphabetically was fine … he really didn't want to start off with Ironhide anyway. The mech had a way of ruining his day when it came to giving him a medical exam. With a grunt of his engine, the medic quickly put the files in order and picked up the first one.

"Ah, Bluestreak. I don't think I've ever personally done any work on him," said the medic to himself, glad that Prowl as his unit's leader had made sure to keep all medical files despite having lost their medic – Klench – in battle.

His cool mood disappeared quickly and was replaced by surprise after he opened Bluestreak's file, it seemed … wrong. For the most part, it seemed short except for a well document report on an almost full-body reformat a few vorns ago after a battle on Cybertronian settlement called Veala. Ratchet cringed as he looked at the repairs. The poor youth had to have been in the medical bay for months for the injuries and integration of new parts. Ratchet was surprised that the youth hadn't been left for dead by the medics, marked a critical. So, they must have found him at the end of battle, or he certainly wouldn't be here. He'd hate to admit it, but in big battles like Veala medics had to make hard choices. Sometimes they even had to cannibalized off mechs as soon as they passed in order to keep the less critical alive.

Bluestreak had been lucky. He was probably thought dead by everyone and was somehow able to hold out until the battle was over. He really should bring that subject up during Bluestreak's next physiological evaluation. When was he due for that …

"Oh my, that's not good," whispered the mech to himself as he started to page deeper into the file.

It wasn't that Bluestreak had bad marks for mental health; it was just that there wasn't an updated evaluation after such a terrible battle. In fact, there was barely anything in the file after the major repairs from the Battle of Veala and a few minor battle repairs. Where were his upgrades, systems wares checks, basic virus upgrades, and maintenance checks in general? But that wasn't the worse part: Bluestreak was older than he thought. Bluestreak had missed his last two youngling formats that he needed in order to function properly when he got his adult upgrade. The kid was under-formatted for his age … unless this file was wrong. If not, he needed more supplies. Bumblebee was a little late for next upgrade but at least he wasn't two behind, a third almost passed due.

The medic sighed. Here he had been wincing about the arrival of a ship full of new mechs to repair and beat with a wrench; now he couldn't wait for the ship to show up. It would have supplies he needed for such a bad case of neglect. Ugh, Primus, they needed to get the kid a Caretaker. A Caretaker would have known the youngling needed upgrades.

Getting out of his chair, the medic decided to go see Prowl. He knew the tactician was not in recharge like directed. So the slagger might as well help make a schedule up to get the youngling time off so Ratchet could slowly make repairs and perform maintenance until the ship got here. He also wanted the youngling off the field as much as possible. He had a feeling that the energon he had seen on the youth's back was caused by neglect.

XXX

Paw07: Ratchet … oh how I do love your bad timing … or perhaps impeccable timing. XD. And good Scorpy, he's going hungry tonight.


	5. Nightmares

Note: I changed the ending of the last chapter a little bit.

Chapter 5: Nightmares

XXX

Ratchet's peds clicked softly on the tile floors, but the echoes made it seem like he was the size of Megatron.

Ugh, why did he have to think of that mech? It probably was because he was in the room that the warlord had once called his prison cell for half a vorn. What could he say though? Humans didn't require incredibly large room sizes… so there weren't many choices for the location of an Autobot medical bay. So Megatron's old room it was. Ratchet sighed at the thought. That wasn't his only problem, said medical bay was low on supplies he needed, Bluestreak needed. But before he could even tackle that dizzying prolonged assignment, he needed to find Prowl.

The slagger wasn't in his office, wasn't anywhere! Probably knew the resident medic was looking for him. Almost all the mechs seemed to have a 'medic sense' when it came to check-ups but this wasn't even about a check-up so where was he?

Grumbling under his breath, Ratchet decided that perhaps it was best to check with Prime first. The Prime wouldn't have access to all the information he needed, but the leader would be able to make a request of all the men that had been hoarding parts –Smokescreen- to hand over extra materials for Bluestreak's care. Parts could even be cannibalized from other mechs who weren't really using a particular system or even if they could finally find Barricade; they could rip some parts off that slagger when disarming him.

Killing him would be better for part selection though. Dead parts equal more parts.

Truthfully, Ratchet didn't much care for cannibalizing equipment, some mech were really bothered by that, so he didn't tell mechs when they were 'donated' parts if he could help it. Yet, the truth was that if big battles like Veala taught a medic anything, it was: what do the dead need with parts? Their sparks were extinguished. Death was their new companion, and hopefully, the past Primes had come to greet their spark.

He had heard of it rarely… but sometimes parts were even taken from the soon to be deactivated. It was not an Autobot practice but sometimes it just seemed that a mech was offline… it had only happened to Ratchet once, and afterwards he always made sure the mech was dead before taking anything ever again. He'd never forget watching that spark fade.

Shaking off dark thoughts, he soon found himself at Prime's door staring at a pair of blue optics. There, right in front of doorway, Prowl stood looking as if he was waiting for something… like for the Prime's door to open.

"What are you doing here? I've been looking all the slag over for you," replied the medic, his lip components twitching.

"Waiting to talk to Optimus… he's resting."

Ratchet looked at the door and then back at Prowl, ill humored before he stated, "So… you're going to wait out here all night? What's so fraggen important that you are going to ignore recharge for a day?"

Prowl huffed through his vents, sighed, an emotional tidbit coming through his vocalizer as he stated, "Bluestreak. His behavior has been… disquieting."

The medic shook his head and reached out to grabb at the mech's shoulder, forcing him to walk with him as he stated, "Well, it seems we have something in common this evening. You're worried about Bluestreak and so am I… Prowl, by chance do you know the last time Bluestreak has had a youngling upgrade?"

A walk down the hall late, Prowl was sighing into his energon, which was upon a rec room table, and was now looking far more tired than he had a few moments ago.

Prowl accepted that he didn't have enough time to watch over Bluestreak but the youngling was part of his unit or on the same base often enough that he should have noticed such a medical disparity. The youth was nearly missing three-upgrades. If something wasn't done soon who knew what would happen. Bluestreak's sparks growth could be stunted and would never mature fully, bonds incapable of forming or even interfacing becoming unlikely. Not to mention the youngling's body would probably become riddled with glitches since his spark would be unable to support new systems.

It would be a short life and slow death.

His wings drooped. He had thought he had been looking out for the young mech but he had failed even at that. No wonder he never became a caretaker.

"So, I agree with your worry about Bluestreak," added Ratchet. "It could be the start of a glitch, his recent fear and the energon I saw on his back the other night. It could also be causing the nightmares he mentioned … or maybe its just paranoia."

Prowl frowned, knowing how glitches could seriously heed a mech's life and social status. He had one with his battle computer but it was nowhere as serious as say… Red Alert. The poor mech was so paranoid he seemed unable to exist without his job and its protection. He had very little of a social life and if the war was ever to end, though no mech would admit it to his face, it was obvious that he would have trouble functioning.

The thought of what had happened to Red Alert happening to Bluestreak… it made him sick.

Ratchet sighed, watching a look of sadness fill the mech's optics. Prowl being anything but stoic was rare but to show so many emotions in the last second, it was obvious how much he was disappointed in himself and worried about the closest thing to a charge. Reaching out a hand, Ratchet patted the hand gripping the cube of energon, stating in a truly sympathetic tone, "It's not your fault this happened. You are not his caretaker."

Prowled pulled his hand away, his voice full of indignation, "I should have found him a caretaker then…"

"Perhaps, but there's not much we can do about that now; what's done is done. We can help him now though," said Ratchet, having thought this through when he was looking for the tactician. "First… do you know if Smokescreen has used his _skills_ to procure any additional parts he hasn't thought to share with me, the medic?"

The enforcer's wings twitched and his frown increased. Smokescreen was as Decepticon as Autobots came and for his skills, that was acceptable but sometimes with things such as poker and goods hoarding… was a bit overdoing it. The tactician nodded and stated, "I'll get it out of him, but … what about the future? He needs a caretaker so this doesn't happen again."

Ratchet nodded, knowing why the officer had been perched before Prime's door now. He had been ready to ask if Prime would instate a Caretaker to Bluestreak… and there was no doubt who he would be recommending especially since they all knew what really happened with Hot Rod.

Nodding his head in accordance, Ratchet stated what was on the black and white mech's mind, "You were waiting for Prime so you could ask about Kup… he's just not the same without a charge to watch over."

Optics brightening, the enforcer slowly nodded his head, stating simply, "Yes, it would be good for both of them, but for the moment I will be speaking with Smokescreen."

"Good luck with that… I'm going to be raiding the new medical bay to see what I have. It may take me a few days to gather everything, but even if I have to do a partial upgrade its better than nothing," grumbled the mech as rose to his feet, slowly heading for the exit to the break room. Maybe he'd take the long way past Bluestreak's room and peak in to see how the two were doing. You could tell a lot about younglings and caretaker by how they slept.

…

Scorponok inched a little closer, optics dimming and demand pressing into the spark bond.

"No… no. Please don't make me. I'll get you a cube or something… just leave me alone," whimper Bluestreak as his fingers reached for the door latch. He knew that running away wouldn't keep the drone at bay for long and he couldn't become a Con for being hungry, but he just couldn't let this happen. He didn't want to be a Con!

Scorponok churred, his tail shifting. His young Master was getting twitchy; he could feel it over the bond. Well, best make this quick and painless as possible. He wasn't in the mood for a chase, but if he had to catch his food for the first time… so be it.

Speak of Unicron! Bluestreak was already to the door and thrusting it open, a screech on his lips as a tail swished out and tripped him. The drone was then about to rush forward and steal a quick meal from his tripped Master before the aging mech got up, but another shout joined the fray and the scorpion found himself falling back into the shadows of the room., unsatisfied and hopefully unseen.

Bluestreak shook his head, optics going bright as he stared at a down Ratchet, the medic, who had become trapped beneath him when the drone had tripped him. It was instinct after that, he supposed, but he quickly clamored over to the old mech crying out in horror, "Please don't let him get me!"

The cry vibrated over the walls, Kup's optics onlining and Prowl's sensitive wings twitching down the other direction of the hall, the enforcer's lights flickering has he turned and rushed in the youth's direction. He knew that cry anywhere. It was Bluestreak's.

Kup, rolling out of the berth like a practiced soldier, rushed as well out of the room. His gun was poised high as he scanned ever corner of the hall, only glancing momentarily to see Bluestreak being pulled close to the medic's chest in a protective manner and the medic's saws buzzed to life. A siren soon filled the area too; red, white and blue lights reflecting off the walls.

"What's wrong!" yelled Prowl as he came up next to the medic and the clearly frightened youngling.

"I don't know, Kup is there something in the room!" growled the medic, clearly troubled with how shaken the youth was. He was so slaggen glad he decided to take this way. Who knew where Blue might have ran in fear, this was clearly a night terror, especially with the confused look on Kup's facial plate as the aging mech looked around the room in confusion.

Glancing at the two mechs and then the petrified youth who looked like he'd just be happy running away, Kup stated, "T-there's nothing in here. I-it wasn't my snoring engine, was it? I know Hot Rod always said it was frightening but I'm sure it was just sarcasm."

"I'm sure he was. Nonetheless, will you and Prowl check both ways down the hall?" stated Ratchet out loud so Bluestreak could hear it, though his communication link opened up and stated dully. 'For Bluestreak's sake. It was most likely a night terror given his current state, he's petrified.'

The two mechs nodded and each quickly jogged in the opposite direction of each other, their headlights dancing in the corners where the halls lights did not reach.

Watching the two mechs run off, Ratchet quickly got to his feet and directed Bluestreak back to his room making sure to turn on the lights and look around before having the mech sit on his berth. The youngling didn't even look at him as he scanned the room, shame entering his optics.

"Sorry Ratchet… it's just that…. You know I didn't mean to wake… I just got scared and… well… nothing was in here," stated the youth in downtrodden voice. _Nothing I want you to know about at least_, he mentally added, his optics threatening to start shivering as he started to cry. Mechs didn't have tears like humans but they had their own way of crying, a shivering of the optics and clicking.

Ratchet stopped the act of looking around, his systems long since informing him that there was no other life forms in the room…. Though Bluestreak's spark signal seemed a bit distorted like there was two of him. It was probably the stress, his spark reaching out for a Caretaker bond… though there wasn't another one to answer back. The medic slowly sat down and in a soft voice asked, "Well, just because we didn't see anything there… didn't me you didn't. What did you see youngling? I'm not leaving until you tell me."

Bluestreak wanted to state it was nothing, that it was a nightmare, but for some reason he knew Ratchet would just see through that or if worst came to worst… the medic would agree and leave. Thus he would be completely alone for the drone's dinner. Freaking out and being saved by his countryman hadn't been in the plan and he doubted it would work again, but he was glad to have been saved from the feeding for just a little bit longer… the little slagger was fast.

"Well," stated the medic, nearly ignoring the ping.

'What is it?' the healer stated as Kup came through the communication link.

'Threaten to leave. That'll open the kid up,' stated Kup as he stepped into the doorway, pretending to talk to Prowl.

'I'm not going to leave a mech, a youngling for that matter, alone after a night terror!' growled the mech.

'Just do it, an old mech knows!' added the green mech, his optics brightening.

'Fine, slagger. Just wait for your next rest check,' added the medic with a growl as he turned his attention the youth, jumping off the berth and stating in almost a cold manner, "Well, if you are not going to talk, it really must have been nothing. We'll leave you to recharge."

Bluestreak immediately latched out, grabbing the mech by the wrist as his optics shivering, his vocals crying, "Please don't go! I can't be alone; he'll get me!"

It was a floodgate after that, the clicking escaping his vocalize in a rush and his armor fanning up and down slightly in distress. He couldn't stop it. He was so fraggen scared and he found he now couldn't stop himself from breaking down. Quickly, the young mech was all but bawling as his two hands wrapped around the mech's wrist, begging Ratchet not to leave him all alone.

Ratchet surprisingly gave in easily, stepping back towards the berth as a chirp escaped him, a hand reaching out to pull the smaller mech in a partial hug. He then commenced by rubbing Blue's back, his psychological programs writing up notes about the youth's every word.

"And who'll get you, Bluestreak?"

Despite himself and all the stress of late, he blurted out the fear he had first had when waking in the evening, "They always come asking to rest with me!"

Ratchet tightened, his optics growing dim as he noted Bluestreak's sudden stiffness. The youth hadn't meant to say that.

"Who comes to rest with you?" stated the medic, suddenly fearing the worst. Maybe it wasn't a night terror or even a glitch. This fear seemed far too mentally taxing. Bluestreaker was still a youngling but not young enough not to be able to interface. Had someone taken advantage of him and his mind was recollecting it? Had the Con's raped him? Had a fellow soldier not listened to 'no'? Frag, frag, frag! Rape wasn't unheard of but it was certainly not the easiest thing to treat. If a young mech's first time had been forced or very painful, it would likely cause his spark to believe that interfacing was excruciating and the likability of Blue ever interfacing again would become unlikely. It was a hard thing to treat.

Blue just continue to sob, his voice unbidden. He hadn't meant to say that… but it had been haunting him since he had gotten the drone. Perhaps, if he just told a little of what happened in Veala he would… no, he must not tell. It hurt too much!

Ratchet swallowed, asking in a worried tone, "This … mech… that comes to rest with you. Does he want sexual things from you?"

Blue's head popped up from its dipping pose, his voice squawking as he immediately caught Ratchet's mental direction, "N-no! Not like that! They're … they're…"

The youngling went silent. He suddenly couldn't say it, not after so long of hiding it, but Ratchet was right there, Kup and Prowl were right outside of the door as well. Their blue optics were peaking in from time to time. He couldn't press this off, but he had never told anyone about how he slept with dead mechs… how they came to visit… how their dead chests served as pillows… how he …

"They're … dead," the words escaped him so easily, so simply that he himself was just as shocked as the look on Ratchet's face. After that, he couldn't keep the words in. It was like he was puking his nightmares, every word hurting but his stomach promising a calmness when all the contents were regurgitated for the world to see. Soon, he found himself latching onto Ratchet's chest, blubbering details he never wanted anyone to know.

"They're dead, every last one of them! Mech's from the battlefield! Cons, Autobots, my caretakers, neutrals, whoever was in the pile! They have holes in them, missing limbs, open chests, dripping tubes, but they always ask waiting to be my pillow and pull me into a cold embrace! They always come to visit me in the dark… a-and I can't stop them. They're always there…"

Prowl's optics dimmed as Bluestreak's voice became shouts, the hall echoing his frightened voice. Kup had to look away, ashamed as he whispered, "Some kind of Caretaker I am. I know he's not my charge but I should have noticed when he got out of the berth."

Prowl said nothing as the words became outright wails, the medic whispering calming tones, stating that no one was really there but he would stay with the young mech tonight. But only if Blue agreed to take a sedative though, his spark rate was becoming too erratic to be healthy.

"It's not your fault. Like you said, you are not his permanent caretaker… though if he did have one this might never had happened," added Prowl, planting a seed of dual intentions, hoping his skill in manipulation was as good as Smokescreen's.

Kup's hands became fists and he stated, "Yes, perhaps that is true."

Ratchet watched the conversation taking place outside the door, his hand still rubbing Blue's back as he clicked at the youth. He pulled a needle out of his subspace and the injection was quick, the medic softly telling the distressed youth to lie down on the berth so the sedative he had just administered kicked in. He didn't leave the youth though as he promised. He instead quickly crawled in after him, clicking like all Caretakers did. Ratchet had never really been a full time Caretaker himself, but he had had many cases like this to deal with: frightened younglings with no Caretaker. Frowning at the thought, he allowed the slowing recharged bound youngling to clamber at him and warp his arms around the medic's chest, pulling the larger mech close so he could place an audio on his chassis and listen to his spark. Ratchet really didn't care for this part of youngling care, the cuddling at night, but Blue needed physical attachment right now… and if the look on Kup's face was any indication, the elder mech had a mission right now. He was walking off to Prime's chambers, his purpose rather evident.

'You didn't even have to be so manipulative in getting Kup to be Blue's caretaker. I know you've been wanting to ask him since you judged that Hot Rod was a deserter, but just asking would have been less of sore spot. Kup feels guilty now,' stated Ratchet over the private comm. to Prowl as he pulled Blue's head under his chin, fully encasing the smaller mech in a tight embrace.

Prowl was silent for a moment before he replied, 'I didn't outright ask because I didn't want to press too hard. Kup might think after Hot Rod's abandonment that he wasn't a positive Caretaker. Truth is, he's one of the best. I didn't want to push to hard and have him deny that part of his programming.'

'I know he's good, but is he good enough? Blue defiantly is going to need a full physiological exam after this. Walking nightmares and elusions are a bad sign, Prowl. I don't think this is a glitch,' added the medic, feeling the sobs grow a little softer and the youngling's shivering grow weaker. The sedative was kicking in.

'… I'm sure you and Smokescreen will know what to do about that, but Blue needs someone to care for him right now.'

'Then why don't you be his caretaker, Prowl?' asked the medic innocently. 'I know you care for him. Otherwise you wouldn't have struggled to get the Caretakers you did for him over the vorns.'

Prowl said nothing, he just turned to look at Ratchet for a moment before he clicked off the lights and shut Bluestreak's door. Ratchet frowned for a moment at the lack of reply, but busied himself with Bluestreak who was now trying to remain awake, the full darkness causing him to shiver. The elder mech whispered into his audio sweet nothings for comfort before Blue finally just gave up, his optics completely offlining. The medic sighed, glad for this one won battle. Looking around the room for a moment as if looking for these waking corpses, the medic decided there was nothing threaten in the room and offlined his own optics, cycling down for recharge.

Little did he know, that right below the berth a pair of red optics shifted, worried, a drone curling up into a ball under the berth. The whole time he promised his young Master that if there were indeed any walking-dead coming to visit his Master that he would chase every single one away.

He was still hungry though… slaggen medic.

XXX

Paw07: Yeah… its been a long time but at least I kept my word. I don't abandon things. Regardless, I think my betas gone but at least I bothered to proofread this one properly. So, enjoy! Also, there is so much more to the subject of Hot Rod being a "deserter". Nothing is that simple.


	6. Silver Lining

Chapter 6: Silver Lining

Ratchet shifted, the youngling instinctively curling closer, clingy.

The medic sighed. He had been up since the sun had risen yet he was still trapped in this berth with the youngling. Generally, given his personality, he would have booted his bed partner out or just left, but he could tell that the youth hadn't had a good recharge in weeks and that was troubling. He'd remain until the youth woke on his own…

'Ratchet? Are you awake,' came over the com link.

… Or until he had viable excuse to leave. Please be someone bleeding to death; please be someone bleeding to death.

"Yes, do you need me?" asked the medic, ready to pry himself away and leave the youth to sleep on his lonesome. He knew he shouldn't but he just couldn't stay in one place. He needed to work! Ugh, no wonder Prowl and him got along… they were both work-aholdics though Prowl's seemed far more voluntary.

"No. No, stay with the youth. He needs you. I just wanted you to know about the decision that has been made this morning… Kup has accepted being Bluestreak's Caretaker; though you can still tell he misses Hot Rod,' stated the Prime over the link.

"Good. Do you need me to make sure all his Caretaker protocols are up to date? I can be there in a moment," added the medic almost desperately.

The Prime chuckled over the line, his voice amused, "Come now, Ratchet. You work too hard. Enjoy the morning off… _sleep__in_ as Sam would say."

The medic groaned and laid back down, the youngling curling closer to him. The medic knew it was because Bluestreak was seeking out the comfort of a more mature spark, one to listen to. Didn't mean he had to like it. A berth side manner wasn't his strong point; he was called the Hatchet for a reason.

Regardless, he sighed softly and shifted so that he pulled the youth closer. Bluestreak was a really a good kid. Ratchet knew he might not be all warm and fuzzy but he did care and soon Blue would have his needed upgrades and be safe from any glitches.

He vowed his medical training on it.

A while later, recharge programs fulfilled, Bluestreak sat up with a start, nearly falling off the berth with a slight screech of surprise; someone had touched him.

He turned his head thinking it was one of the dead, or maybe the drone was ready to dig into him and feed, but instead he was met by large blue optics and a frown. He offlined his optics once or twice until he realized that it was Ratchet looking down at him.

"Youngling, didn't mean to scare you. Come on, get up. It's already late, midafternoon actually. The other's are all up," stated the medic as he stood up straight and headed for the door, standing in the doorway as he waited for the youth to follow after.

Bluestreak sat there a moment, confused. Why was Ratchet in his room? No other adults ever stayed with him. Unless… unless he had a small breakdown last night.

Frowning, the first words out of his vocals were, "I'm sorry, Ratchet. You didn't have to spend the night… it was just... you know… I thought…"

"There is no need to apologize youngling. In fact, I'm a little upset you didn't tell anyone sooner… and I doubt you'll be spending another night alone for a while," added the medic as he opened the door, waving a hand to the exit. "Come on, Kid. We've got a surprise for you."

Bluestreak swallowed. Knowing all too well that a surprise from Ratchet probably meant a painful upgrade but nonetheless… he liked the attention. It kept the drone away and it made him feel safe.

He hadn't felt safe in a long time.

Swallowing at the prospect of the unknown, he went ahead regardless, Ratchet placing a hand on his shoulder. This could either be something really bad or…

A few moments later, there were voices, echoing, bellowing… and happy. There was joy in that air and for a moment, as Bluestreak stepped into the rec. room, he almost expected some of the dead (some of his happiest moments with souls long past) to all be in the same room, sharing drinks, laughs and bad jokes… like a war had never been.

Optics adjusting to the light, he saw many figures: caretakers and friends, all of which turned their attention to him. He liked attention, he truthfully did, but at the same time he almost felt unaccustomed to it like he didn't know how to react.

Bowing his head, he stated almost sheepishly, "Am I late? Because if I am, I didn't do it on purpose. You see I was sleeping and I didn't remember getting a memo, otherwise I wouldn't be sleeping and I would be here, not late, since you all are staring at me. That is why I presume you are staring. I don't have something on my paint job do I because…"

Optimus, who generally wouldn't interrupted the young gunner knew that this could go on for hours if he didn't do something right now; putting a hand up instantly stalled the youth's tangent. The large mech then put a hand on Blue's back, noting that the youth almost twitched when he touched the space between the wings, but decided to press off the thought as he stated, "Calm yourself. We wanted you to rest. You are not late… besides, the guest of honor cannot be late."

The youth blinked, surprised and was about to speak until he noticed that Optimus's armor was shining and there were golden decorations on his helm, higher chest, and wrists. It was then that he realized what was going on. A Prime, more for spiritual purposes and ceremonies, would ware gold tinted colors and sometimes a type of head-dress. Of course, along with the Primus's Grand Hall, all those things were gone with Cybertron's life blood. So, it might have seemed bland compared to days gone by but to him, it was as if Primus himself was standing before him.

"Optimus… what's g-going on?"

The titan laughed softly, a chuckle, and led the youth to the middle of the room, addressing everyone, his gaze falling on a twitchy Kup.

"It has come to my attention that you have not been getting the needs that a youngling requires," stated Optimus.

Struggling to put on a smile, the youth stated, "I'm a soldier. I don't…"

"Hush youngling," grumbled Kup as he came up behind the youth and patted him on the shoulder. "Listen to what the mech's going to do for you. You are good kid. You deserve a blessing from a Prime."

Nodding, lifted up a large hand, he rubbed his thumb over the Cybertronain text on Blue's helm which was carved into the helm as all mechs and femmes over time. Such text had ones' true name, almost a list if a human would translate it, as a mech's true name seemed to change with every permanent relationship, military stance, and parentage. Since Bluestreak had no parents, the Allspark generally always the first carving for such mechs, there was a space on his helm for a permanent Caretaker.

None of his previous caretakers has been formally introduced so this was… Bluestreak almost broke down into a sob as Optimus rubbed the blank space fondly and then stated, "As the line of Primus, a Prime, here today I will present a title and you all will bear witness as I bestow this mark on our companion's new true name. No longer will he have to worry about a barren spot in his spark where a Caretaker would shelter, teach, and protect for today I bestow a Guardian to take up that title. Do you accept the new mark and the bonds and relationships that come with it from Kup, by a Prime's blessing?"

Bluestreak was almost shaking as every optic stared at him, waiting for his reply. His vocals actually hiccupped, the situation so surreal. It was like he had been praying to Primus his whole life for something and just when he had given up on it… it was given to him. Part of him was so angry that it had taken so long and the other half just wanted to cry and cry and cry because it was so wonderful and at the same time. He never knew he'd ever be blessed like this.

Kup just patted his shoulder and whispered, "Give Prime your answer, kid. Nod your head if you have to. I won't be offended if yah say no."

Taking his hand away from his optics, the glass shivering from bright to black as if he was crying, Bluestreak looked up at the softly smiling Kup and then blubbered, "Of course I-I want you as a-a Care-caretaker."

The old mech chuckled softly at that and rubbed the youngling's back below his wings, barely noticing the bump there or that Blue went a little stiff before he turned his attention back to Optimus. Slowly, the youth nodded his head, unable to state another word.

Optimus just smiled at that and cupped the youngling's chin, directing the head upward so he'd have a good angle to finish this. Prowl quickly came up to Optimus, a small gold band on his one arm showing that he was a symbolic attendant as a temple priest though all of Primus's priests had been gone for a long time. With steady hands, Prowl quickly opened up a decorative tin that looked like it had black ink in it. Then, dipping a finger in, Optimus smoothly lifted his other hand and drew a symbol on the blank metal, a symbol for the mark that would be carved there later by a medic, aka Ratchet.

In the past the carving was done on the spot, but after a few fainting's, helm injuries strangely painful, a qualified medic was allowed the right which was why they were secretly labeled a Tool of Primus.

Pulling away from the now blubbering youngling who no longer knew if he was crying because of sorrow or joy, Kup took a step forward. Then, right below the symbol for Hot Rod and the many other names above that one for his Charges, Optimus took the same ink and smoothly placed a symbol for Bluestreak; Kup's chin held high and proud.

Optimus just nodded when he was done. Secretly, the Prime was glad Kup came to him last night with the request to be instated as a Guardian. It would be good for both of them. Especially since Hot Rod was likely not coming back. The racer had abandoned his caretaker, though Kup refuses to acknowledge that, and was technically a traitor for abandoning the cause. Why he left the old mech, no one knew, but it didn't matter anymore.

Kup seemed happy for the first time since coming to Earth, especially when the old mech then pulled the blubbering youngling into a hug and promised to everyone and Primus himself, "I shall shelter, teach, and protect this child of Primus from this day forward… even when he thinks himself too old for me."

A chuckle echoed over the crowd and then Prime proudly proclaimed, "I bestow my blessing then on this spiritual bond. May Primus bless you, Kup, with a youngling you never had and Bluestreak, with a Parental bond you've never known before."

The party was wonderful after that, and thankfully Ratchet got a little drunk so the carving was held off until tomorrow, but Bluestreak couldn't help but think a human word every time Kup slapped him on the shoulder and called him a good kid. Tonight, he had a father. Yes, there'd still be pain and suffering and fear, but now… he wasn't alone anymore.

…

Blue burrowed his head a little deeper into the crook of Kup's neck and chassis. He could smell the high-grade and cy-gars all over the older mech but he did not find it the least bit unpleasant. He was just glad that he now had a Guardian and that they'd room together, keeping the nightmares at bay and slowly forming a bond.

He smiled at that.

He had lots of unofficial Caretakers but never had he ever gotten to form a bond with any of them. A bond is what connected their sparks together like brother bonds, twin bond, or bondmates would. It was a way to always know the other was there and when they needed each other. It strived to press off loneliness and fear.

It was safe.

He smiled at this as Kup mumbled something and curled his chin on the top of Blue's, making him want to weep again in joy. He had an adoptive parent… or the Cybertronain equivalent of it. Nothing could ruin today, even with Kup half-drunk after all the drinks everyone gave him, the mech now passed out.

Click. Click…

Except for that.

Bluestreak's optics flew open, his spark now focusing away from the first steps in a developing bond with Kup, to his symbiot's. He slowly sat up, his spark just knowing where to look in the dark. Slowly, as the scorpion opened each of his red eyes, the room then set aglow by Scorponok's many optics.

The pest pressed into the bond, feeling Kup's bond for a moment as if confused; Kup himself twitched on the berth from the intrusion, but not awaking. Looking away from the green mech, Scorponok gazed at Bluestreak and whirred.

He was hungry, still, and was sorry for scaring him, but he was so hungry.

Bluestreak glared down at the parasite, his wings twitching. It was not going to eat off of him. No, no way in the pit. Yet, the more he stared at those begging optics the more he felt relation to the bug. Scorponok had been an orphan when Blackout had died and Blue had been one up until now as well.

It wasn't fair. He shouldn't have to be burdened like this, but neither could he let it starve either. He had gotten someone to take care of him… maybe he could take care of the Con as well. Just not so… personally. Sighing, the youth looked around his room, wondering what he should do. Then a thought struck him.

Leaning down as if speaking to a small child, trying not to stir Kup who had rolled over, Bluestreak asked wearily, "So … you're hungry?"

Scorponok's part of the bond seemed to jump in excitement and want, his tail wagging. He then quickly chirped and ran around in a circle like a dog ready to fetch a stick.

Bluestreak nodded, taking that as an answer, "I'll take that as a _yes_. O-okay, um, just follow me."

The drone stopped wagging his tail … what? Why did Master want him to follow? He had had a long trip and was hungry. Master's quarters were secure, the new Caretaker asleep, and Master wasn't low so he didn't need to refuel just yet. So… why were they heading to the rec. room? Yes, that was where Master was telling him to go as he crept down to the floor, opening the door. True, there was no one there anymore, especially at this hour after a party that had high grade… but … certainly not!

He didn't have the systems for raw energon consumption, though he did have a tank to carry such things for his Master.

Yet, that was where they ended up and the grey mech kindly patted a bench that was attached to a table, telling the drone to come and sit here. Well, it was nice to be treated so kindly, to even get to sit at the table, but the sinking feeling only increased as Blue brought two cubes to the table, pipe sticking out of one in what could be compared to a slurpy straw. The scorpion-bot wilted. He really didn't want to force this especially since the youngling was in such a warm mood and trying so hard to take care of him now… but it had to be done.

Staying still as the mech petted him on the head, allowing the bond to be opened a little. He sent feelings of acceptance and warmth through the bond, curling up to his Master, almost trying to crawl into his lap while curling a tail around the youth's back. He stalled his tail though from plugging in when Blue's smile capture him completely.

He could wait … this was nice. This was really nice. It almost reminded him of his still moments with Blackout… when the other would pet him and preen his armor, the two basking in each other company. So, for now, he would listen to his Master ramble on about having a Caretaker, this Kup, and how happy he was to have someone to take care of him.

Well, he was the first to care though, but he'd put up with Kup if it made Master happy.

He liked having the youngling happy, like right now. The bond was so warm. So perfect… he could wait, he just wanted to be petted and cared for. He didn't realize how alone the both of them had been until they finally connected.

He could wait. He'd gone hungry before.

XXX

Paw07: Well Blue, I'd say that's a good day for you… but not really for Scorponok… just how long can he go hungry for? And Prowl… we all know you wanted the title of guardian. Why didn't you stand up for the title? Eh, where would the fun be in that. XD


	7. Starving

Chapter 7: Starving

Scorponok shivered and balled up tighter. Bluestreak, while Kup was out barking at one of the other mechs no doubt, had carefully pulled up some of the metal flooring and walls and created a secret door and a borrow of sorts under the floor and that was where the drone was now.

It had been very nice the last few weeks under the floor boards and in the bedroom when Kup was on duty.

Bluestreak was a kind Master. He groomed him and patched any injured he could see and talked to him.

The kid talked all the time, regardless, but when he was quiet. It was the best. It reminded him of Blackout when he would lay in the giant mech's lap and be warmed by the other's engine, tail lazily hanging off the side. He did the same thing with Blue, except the kid's heat was wondrous because he was so cold.

He needed to conserve energy even though he was so hungry…

The new Master's connection was growing stronger every day and so was his kindness, placing blankets and little trinkets in his burrow so he would have something to do while the youngling was on duty or with Kup, and Scorponok didn't want to risk that.

He no longer had the spark to.

Some of the things the kid told him … or told Kup when he woke up from a nightmare, the older mech having gotten his own berth in the room but rarely allowed to sleep in it alone, made Scorponok's protective mannerisms all the stronger. His little Master didn't deserve to suffer anymore.

And he wasn't going to make him.

Even if he had to suffer … suffer until his last breath.

He was so hungry.

…

Bluestreak yawned, his wings stretching. He didn't move them much anymore, keeping the drawn against his back a lot without noticing it as if to protect the hole-thing in his back even though he knew it was hidden. The youngling stalled at the thought. Protect? No, no. He was hiding the hole, not protecting it. He didn't even need the thing anymore.

Scorponok seemed content with Blue placing cubes in his burrow as long as the gunner would take time to allow him to curl up in his lap. The drone loved that. Loved being petted and groomed and close to him even though he was dopey as of late.

The youngling frowned at that. Now that he thought about it, the drone had been cold as well. Did he need a little heater do there or something in the dirt he loved so much? He would have said something through the spark, right?

The youngling shook his head as he locked his room so the drone could come out, having set up a motion detector outside the door so he could unlock it for Kup if the mech was coming his way and leave it locked so everyone else had to knock. He did this because he didn't want the older mech to feel unwelcomed with a lock, though, with how fast the bond was forming, he doubted the mech would feel angry.

Just suspicious.

Kup kept asking where the dirt on the floor was coming from.

The youngling shook his head, thinking of how the drone must roll around in his burrow and how far the network of tunnels had gotten under the base. Lord knows if he was allowed free rein, if the Autobots didn't despise mechs that carried drones, Scorponok could become quite the hell raiser with that network.

Blue smiled at the thought of the small drone tripping everyone in base, cackling, and then diving back into his network as mechs like Ironhide and Ratchet would rise to their feet cursing. It was a nice dream that would likely never come true. He had had one dream come true recently. He got a Guardian. He shouldn't be pressing the fates for too much right now.

Maybe if the war ever ended or maybe if Scorponok wasn't dependent on him? Yeah. The drone didn't even have to eat on him… maybe, if they could give the little drone a voice of his own and maybe a bi-pedal alt mode, drone would be so despised. Yes, one day… one day he wouldn't have to hide his small companion.

His friend, Scorponok.

Smiling at the thought, Bluestreak silently thanked Primus for his good luck -though a little twisted- in offering him not just a guardian right now, but a secret friend as well though the introduction had been painful. Shaking off the thought of that night in the desert, the youngling looked at the door. Quickly sending a ping to it to make sure it was locked and that the sensor was up, the small mech pressed into the bond that was forming between him and the scorpion-bot letting the drone know that it was okay to come out.

Walking across the floor, frowning at the dirt getting into his treads from the floor, Bluestreaj shook his head. He loved the drone, really he did, but every time Scorponok came up from the burrow the drone would shake off his soil covered exterior and it would get everywhere.

Everywhere…

Kup had frowned the first few times he wondered into the room, asking where Bluestreak was rolling around to get all this dirt on him. Blue only laughed nervously and had nothing to say.

The youth smiled at the thought.

Kup was great. Rough around the edges, definitely, but always well rounded. He made sure Bluestreak practice daily in his weapons but also took time to learn basic maintenance from the security system to data pads. Some of it he had learned, a lot actually, but to think he had struggled to learn most of these things on his own when he could have had someone teach him. It was a little disheartening to thinking of the pasted, but now, the best thing … was when recharge came. They had separate berths but most of the time he was curled up with Kup, listening to the elder spark as it beat with caring and knowledge. It was nice, comforting, safe, but Kup was busy and a soldier … so when he wasn't there but Scorponok was.

The first time he had had to recharge alone without Kup, fear crawling towards him like ghostly hands from the past, Scorponok was in his berth without even asking and that night he listened to the drone's spark.

A bond of love and need was forming and, in truth, Blue didn't think he could live without either one of them. His spark hadn't been this warm since… in a long time.

He was loved.

Someone actually loved him.

It was the best and most frightening feeling in the all the world and he never wanted to be alone again.

Ever again.

Smiling at the thought of curling up for a cat-nap as Sam call it, with Scorponok, sounded like a good plan for his short break, yet the drone had yet to rise from the grasp of his dark little encampment. At first, Bluestreak wasn't worried since the drone might be recharging. The scorpion-bot had been doing that a lot lately.

Shaking his head, laugh in his throat, the small mech got on his hands and knees towards the vent on the floor, pushing a chest out of the way that he used as camouflage though easily pushed for the drone, and opened the vent, using his hand to push up one of the metal tiles so he could peer down at the companion if he was there and not in the tunnels.

Yet, as the flooring was removed and set to the side, Blue had to sit there for a moment, staring. He could see Scorponok napping there, all his optics closed yet… he couldn't feel him. It had been developing since their relationship started after the cube offering, these feelings of connectedness. Blue had a suspicion that one day they would always know were the other was, no matter how far they were apart and if the other was scared or happy or sick.

Looking at the drone, Bluestreak started to feel sick. He didn't know if he felt sick because Scorponok had yet to move or because the sick feeling was coming from the small companion. Worrying creeping into his spark, the youngling reached down and shook the ex-Con, asking, "Hey, hey, wake up."

A leg didn't even twitch on the scorpion-bot.

Swallowing, afraid, his vocal squeaked, "Scorponok? P-please move."

There was a moment of stillness and Blue asked again, almost panicked, "Please?"

That was it. The horror of the situation was overcoming a youthful spark and fear overcame him especially when he reached out into the bond … and knew what was wrong. The bond was so faint, like it was about to be severed. Like one of them was dying.

_The drone was dying. His drone, his friend was dying. _

The youngling could not stop the sob that came out of his throat as he reached down and pulled the scorpion-bot out of the hole, struggling to pull the smaller bot up more from his bulk than weight. His arms shaking when he noticed that the drone tail had not even a twitched.

Shivering, pulling the drone into a hug, his optics shivering on and off, he choked, "P-please. What's wrong? Tell me… I'll fix it."

Then, it happened, the bond wavering and weak and the drone clicked, only once and then was still.

Shaking his head at the weak display, a click escaped the youngling as well, in mourning, and he hugged the bot's head, shivering. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He needed to go to Ratchet. He needed to get the drone to someone that would help the little bot.

Not even thinking it through, Blue started towards the door only to stop halfway there.

_No, no. _

They would just kill the drone and … probably imprison him. That was what was done to traitors. At best they would label him as a Con and banish him. Either way, that would be the end of his life in one sense or another.

"Please don't die," whispered the youngling despite all the horrors the drone's existence would cause for him, his door wings shivering. He couldn't wait nor could he take it to Ratchet, but he couldn't let Scorponok die either. The past Primes were against him and Primus had left him abandoned in his struggles… as usual.

Swallowing hard, the tubing in his throat tightening, the youngling was just about to start panicking, which he knew he shouldn't do because his spark's stress might alerting Kup to his trials. Yet, just as the youngling was about to collapse on his knees and blubber into the drone's still form, the door sensor started pinging meaning someone was coming his way.

Tapping into the system wirelessly, the youngling swore like Ironhide and promised to hate Primus if this ended badly, because it was Kup and he was coming along with Prowl.

"No, no, no!" whispered the youth as he hugged the drone tighter. He couldn't deal with them right now. Something was wrong with Scorponok. Really, really wrong and the scorpion-bot was probably dying. In fact, he was positive the other was deactivating with how weak the spark felt in the bond. A small part of him, realizing the drone's mortality, just wanted to keep standing there with the ex-Con in his arms as the two older mech's came in. Part of him wanted to whimper and crying to them, and beg them to do something.

They both cared about him, right?

Right?

Yet, just as he was about to decide on that course of action, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded him: _But only Decepticon's had drones. _

So, as the door opened, Kup walking into the room, the two mech's weren't greeted with the sight of an upset youngling with a drone in his arms, but what they saw was merely a youngling that was resting silently on his berth.

The green mech actually smiled softly at that, "Good to see he's getting' some rest on his own. I don't mind that we share a berth at night or nothin' with the bond formin' and everything, but he can't sleep alone. If we generally have separate shifts, he waits for me and then goes into recharge with me."

Prowl frowned at this, his wings twitching slightly before he nodded, "I'm glad to hear he's recharging better and I will see if I can schedule it so you both can recharge at the same time, but, I must ask … has he said anything else about why he has nightmares at all. About the dead speaking to him I mean?"

Kup, who was about to pull out a cy-gar, frowned and stated softly, "I can feel the fear sometimes, through the bond, but he doesn't really tell me what they are about."

Nodding, Prowl stated softly, "The bond is young. It's only been about a little over three weeks. Now, let's wake up the dreamer. We need all the speed we can get if we want to catch him."

Bluestreak struggled not to tighten his wings or shiver or click as the two mechs stepped into the room, their conversation behind him. What was he going to do? He could not let them take him on a mission, for that was why they were undoubtedly there, because he had to do something for Scorponok. He had to take care of the little one. It was his responsibility. M-maybe he could play sick and get out of the mission, but then he would be send him to Ratchet's and he'd be just as useless to Scorponok. Frag, frag, frag. What was he going to do?

Kup's croaking stalled all thoughts in the youngling's head though as the lights came on, "Light's forty percent."

A dim light overcame the room and the green mech took a step forward only to stall when there was a crunching noise underfoot, "What the… dirt? More dirty. Kid… Ugh, Primus. I swear the kid rolls around it in or somethin'. It's always on the floor."

Prowl, looking away from the still forming on the berth, wondering why the youngling hadn't roused with the lights coming on, stared at the dirt on the floor. It looked like a combination of gravel and recently dug up soil, like what the base had been placed on. That was odd. Leaning down, picking up a small sample and looking at it with magnification, he asked simply, "Where is all the dirt coming from?"

"Don't know, but I tell him to sweep more but it always comes back. I guess younglings are younglings even if they are soldiers and they get dirty," said Kup as he walked forward to wake up his charge.

Prowl stood, sub-spacing the sample for future reference and kept the next few words to himself, 'This was not a little bit of dirt. It looked like the beginnings of a construction site.'

"Regardless, wake him. We need speed if we are going to catch Barricade," said Prowl, his optics shimmering as he looked at the dirt and how it led to the only vent in the room and not, say, around the bed where normal foot traffic should be.

Kup touched Bluestreak's shoulder as the grey mech rose, there was fear in his eyes and the green mech patted Bluestreak on the back, stating, "Come on trooper," thinking it was something like a nightmare again. "We have Cons to kill…"

Prowl frowned at the kill comment but said nothing though. It was a capture mission if they could.

Bluestreak merely nodded stating, "Yeah… kill."

Grabbing a cube of energon, even though he already had two in his sub-space, the youngling spared the vent a glance before he followed the older mech's outside. He needed that cube … as a bargaining tool. A hungry Con would probably be willing to make _deals_.

…

"Fraggen slagger!" cursed Ironhide as they enforcer got low on his rim and slid under an eighteen wheeler's trailer, sparks flying.

Bumblebee merely snickered at his elder and rushed forward as the larger mech was forced to stop since the interstate was blocked off by the crashed semi, crying out over the link, "Come on Blue. Let's get this slagger!"

"Bumblebee, language," barked the youth's guardian through the comms.

"You do it all the time!" laughed back the yellow mech as he flew under the trailer, not even throwing up sparks like Barricade.

"Don't patronize me, kid," barked the black mech, before he added. "I commed Optimus and he and Hatchet will try and cut him off from the other side of town. You two see if you can get 'im cornered in parking garage or somethin'. Me and Kup will be goin' around."

Blue slid under the semi-trailer as moment later as well, getting low on his shocks, not even uttering a word as Kup braked next to the bulker back mech in his alt form, the entire interstate now in disarray, the real cops' sirens in the distance.

"Ready for some off roadin'," added the green mech, turning for the ditch.

Ironhide grunted, "Sure thing… and don't worry about the kid."

"I'm not going to be babyin' him on missions," barked Kup as the two jumped the ditch, rumbling through a neighboring parking lot while dodging parked cars. "Just 'cause I'm his caretaker doesn't mean I will be holden his hand all the time in battle. He's been a soldier long before he had me making sure he takes his vitamins as Sam would say."

Ironhide chuckled, recalling the day when Bumblebee told the human about Caretaker bonds and that it hadn't been strange for Bumblebee to cuddle with the caretaker, Ironhide, and there wasn't anything odd or homosexual about it.

Besides… Ironhide had a girl.

Annabelle.

Everyone had laughed at that and Sam had gone home out of embarrassment alone, though he claimed his face was red over a fever.

"… That's not what I meant. He'll tell you what's bothering him when the kid wants to," said the Top-kick. "Blue can only stay quiet for so long… you've only been with him a short time and ya' know he's a chatter box. He can't keep it in too long without explodin'."

Cutting off a granny car, not caring the woman was probably to blind to have even noticed Kup had forgotten to turn on his 'driver' until now, the green mech sighed, "I know it, but I feel it's something really bad through the forming bond and I can't help but wonder why hasn' he come to me yet? That's what 'm here for. His assurance, his Caretaker."

The black mech chuckled under his hood, "Yah know kids… bad might mean havin' to go to Ratchet for something he broke on himself."

Despite himself, Kup chuckled though he deeply doubted that was the problem.

Meanwhile, up the turnpike, around a K-Mart parking lot, through a rather shift neighborhood and a Burger King drive through, the two younglings where catching up and Barricade and the Con was getting nervous. It wasn't that he was a coward or anything of the like. In truth, he had been mauled rather badly the day Megatron had deactivated in Mission City. He had been T-Boned by a damn Volkswagen and then a fifteen car pileup.

Damn VW. He hated those things. Really, he might have died of embarrassment, but somehow Frenzy pasted his head back together and came and saved his aft from the crusher since he was too dinged and heavily damaged to do much more than trying to heal his innards.

It had been a long and painful recovery. One that left him half-starved because the energon had been bleeding out of his wounds and into the dirt in that shifty junkyard. Not that he wanted to remember that horrid place. The junkyard itself was frightening in a way. He hadn't told Frenzy but sometimes he had nightmares about it … that he was resting with the dead. In truth, he knew it was human cars that surrounded him. They never even had a spark, but still … it haunted him like a ghost in his backseat.

He did not want to end up there again, surround by questionable metallic corpses yet here he was… two little brats coming up behind him. He was still crippled, still low on energy and Megatron wasn't coming back to save his aft or distract the Prime. It was now a time to survive. It was now a time to run… _himself right into a corner_.

"Primus! God Dammit! Slagger!" swore Barricade as he slid to a stop, tires throwing up hot rubber. "Why the pit doesn't this have a dead end sign!"

Slamming himself into reverse, the enforcer was about to make a mad dash for the end of the alley, yet as he pushed his tires, rubber burning, backwards … lights flashed over his form. Headlights … with an Autobot signal attached. Shivering in his frame, knowing he was dinged and dented and that this was going to hurt as a consequence, Barricade transformed and brought out his flail, the cement cracking under his weapon's weight.

_He would not die today. _

He would fight to the bitter end, yet as the youngling transformed, headlight dimmed revealing it was the young gunner and not the irritating yellow one, the Con heard something he never expected to.

"Barricade… please," whispered the grey mech, the yellow one nowhere nearby. "Stop… I won't hurt you. I just need to talk."

Barricade was sure his face might have been hilarious too look at because he was so confused, as he could state was, "What?"

Slow the Autobot lowered his arms, guns still not drawn, and then the gunner did something most unexpected. He got on his knees and bowed his head in defeat as he continued to blubber, his optics shivering in a sign of emotional distress, "Please… I need your help… he's dying and I don't know what to do."

Slowly walking forward, blade popping out of his wrist as he threw his scanners around the alley and roofs for a trap, the Con placed an energon blade under the youngling's chin as he forced him to look up, his red optics stating the Autobot's face as he growled, "Who's dying and why should I care?"

Wings shivering, a click of distress in his throat, the youngling whispered, "I know you are short on supplies… I can give you anything you require. Just help me... Scorponok's… dying. I don't know what to do. I'll give you anything to help me!"

Barricade almost smiled.

XXX

Paw07: Yeah, Barricade. I love him so much. I really need to get back to Bubblegum Under the Seat but I have to revise so much shit before putting out a new chapter for that. I figure… work on the stuff that doesn't have lots of plot holes first. XD … Also… cliffhanger!


	8. Lessons

Chapter 8: Lessons

"Bluestreak," came a voice from behind the gunner, the grey mech almost balking as he turned around to see the medic prowling towards him. The youngling had to swallow, wondering if he had been caught stealing energon as the healer came up to him, murmuring, "I've been looking for you. I finally got some free time and I need to check you and Bumblebee's systems. We will be getting some excess … _materials_… and maybe both of you can get an upgrade."

The grey mech seemed to wilt even though Ratchet was smiling softly at the thought of upgrading the needing youngling. He still couldn't believe that Bluestreak was so behind in his maintenance and not glitching.

Taking a step back, his head tilted downwards slightly, the grey mech swallowed and sought out the connection with Scorponok for some strength though he knew there would be no reply from the probably dying bot. Biting the soft metal of his lip with his front denta at the very thought, the youngling replied, "T-then I'll go find B-bumblebee."

The medic, now basically on top of the youngling as if assessing the other already, raised a metal brow as he looked down on the youth, frowning.

"That won't be necessary. Ironhide dragged him into the medical bay after the Barricade chase… 'Con slagger is slippery. Regardless, with news that I'll be getting some supplies soon I decided to start some minor stuff if not the entire upgrades now before I had too many idiots to take care of," said the medic, noting how the younger mech seemed to want to wilt away into the floor. Bluestreak had always been a little weary of the medical bay, but now he was acting almost jumpy. If the actions still persisted in a few weeks, Ratchet really need to have Prime or Prowl or especially Kup talk to the youth a little later about his emotions.

Those upgrades needed to start now though, especially Bluestreak, so he wouldn't worry of possible psychological oddities. Especially with Kup now breathing down his back as Sam would say. After becoming the kid's Caretaker, Ratchet had mentioned that Bluestreak was behind on his upgrades and Kup almost became unhinged. He was angry, enraged almost… growling why hadn't he been told the day he got the kid. He would have made sure the slagger they were chasing today was dead, if only to make sure Bluestreak could have the parts.

Kup was a trooper. The thought of cannibalized parts did not haunt him.

So, instead, the mech marched over to Prime's office and demanded a mission to look for the Deception's bases, for they had been on planet longer than the Autobots had been, to try and salvage parts.

It was a shame the bodies had been thrown to the bottom of the ocean. They could have used the metal at least. Saying that, had triggered something, and that was why Ratchet was looking hopeful. After much persistence, Optimus was able to convince the American Government to reclaim the bodies from the ocean floor… all except Megatron.

That was too taboo.

And they would properly dispose of them. He doubted Prime told them they were going to cannibalize parts, though he doubted the humans would carry that as a taboo considering they had auto-shops in every town in America, but stating they were going to melt the metal down for equipment and to hide information for dangerous sources sounded more clinical.

Instead of running around blind, Prowl and Kup went to guard the bodies when they were dragged up from the sea… and to threaten each other. It was no secret now, with how often Prowl would ask Kup of Bluestreak's condition from time to time, that the SiC cared and there was bound to be words of some inquires each way.

Ratchet still wanted to know why Prowl hadn't picked up on the duty of being Blue's Caretaker. Perhaps Kup could get something out of the other mech as to why he didn't even consider the position. It wasn't like they were in the middle of a battlefield. Earth was rather silent at the moment, perfect for a developing bond.

Regardless, with the look Blue was giving him, Ratchet might have to wait for Kup to come back … because the youngling was slowly taking a step back.

Just like a squirmy Bumblebee.

"Oh no you don't!" barked the medic just as the kid turned, ready to run, grabbing for a wrist. "You need a checkup."

Bluestreak proved too squirmy though, tripping backwards, squeaking, "I-I promised to take one of … uh… Bumblebee's shifts. Can't! Bye!"

Watching the kid slip away and run off, the medic was almost tempted to set chase but did not. Instead, he clicked on his com. link and murmured, "Kup? Are you there?"

"What's up Hatchet? We are still fishin' for Cons," said the mech over the line, a tint of irritation in his voice likely deprived from Prowl.

Tilting his head, still watching Blue's back as the kid ran down the hall, the medic's head shifted for a moment in surprise as he watched that back. He couldn't help but notice that the kid's form seemed a little more bulky as if his form was trying to carry more weight and his door wings seemed restrained against his back as if for protection. Were his wings bothering him? Growing pains?

A glitch.

Ratchet frowned.

He did not want to think of that for a moment. The kid was getting an upgrade after he stripped those Con's and to make sure that happened he stated, "Bluestreak refused to come in for a checkup so I could asset his … needs."

Kup sighed, grunting, "Sorry Ratchet. Thought the kid wouldn't be so troublesome and he could do that on his lonesome. When I get back, I'll set 'im straight."

"That would be appreciated, Kup. I'll see you soon."

"See yah, Ratchet … though I can't promise to bring Prowl back in one piece. Slagger's getting on my nerves. He keeps acting like I'm not good enough for Blue. Well, I'll be setting him straight," grumbled the green mech before he replied, "Signing off."

Ratchet, despite his worry for Bluestreak, chuckled. Perhaps the gnarly old mech could get some answers out of the stoic Second and why … he didn't take Blue. He wanted Blue. There was no doubt in Ratchet's mind that Prowl had wanted Bluestreak yet he hadn't said a thing.

…

Blue slowed his pace as he got closer to the base's exit, trying to calm his spark. He felt so frightened right now that he was about to lose his lunch if he wasn't in car mode. He still didn't know how he had been able to get back to the base after begging Barricade for help and had not ended up running down the hall with the scorpion-bot in his arms because the mech had agreed. Though, he gave the condition that Blue had to do everything he said. The youth, feeling as if he was murdering his Prime, had wanted to say no and stepped back like a scared sparkling. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to state that he never wanted the drone to begin with … let it die.

He could not.

He could not abandon a part of his spark.

The bond had grown without him even knowing it.

So, with trembling lips, optics shivering, Blue murmured yesterday that he would give Barricade anything that would not hurt the Autobot's. Food, evasion information, equipment… as long as he didn't hurt the ones he cared about and saved Scorponok.

Frowning at the loophole probably, Barricade had agreed.

Bluestreak had no doubt that Barricade was probably starving. A mech could only survive so long off of solar energy before their systems started to degrade especially if injured and Barricade _was_ injured as well. His systems were probably canalizing metal from small systems already.

So, now that most of the Bots were off seeing humans or off on business, it was time for him to take his drone for help. He hadn't even wanted to wait one night to get his drone to Barricade, but the black mech refused for this to be rushed. He stated that if they weren't careful, the drone would be found out and killed anyway… so he had to remain calm and to come tomorrow, folding the scorpion-bot into his compartment. Then, he would see what he could do.

Bluestreak had stated he didn't have a compartment and Barricade had laughed, murmuring that if he didn't yet… he would.

Despite being bothered by that, Bluestreak had said he would find another way. A moving trailer or something, but in the end… as if on instinct he found himself popping is trunk, his back seats folding away and though he had to be half transformed, he was able to get the drone into his form… sagging under the weight yet not pained by it as if his body had slowly been preparing for the stress of such an added weight.

Currently driving down the road now, Blue tried not to let the last twenty so hours bother him. He tried not to think of how his body was changing right under his armor… and how he prayed no one would notice. In fact, he was so deep in his thoughts, and how he might end up looking like Blackout, that he nearly sideswiped a station wagon when Barricade chimed over the com link.

"You weren't followed, where you?"

Tire's squealing, engine skipping a beat, the gunner stiffened as an engine roared and came up next to him, a sleek enforcer in the corner of his vision. The youth couldn't help but note that the Con looked a little healthier, probably from the energon Bluestreak had offered as a piece sign.

Hating himself for giving a Con anything, but his worry for the drone in his trunk over ridding such thoughts, the youth growled, "He's in my trunk… where do you think."

The cop car slowed down a little as if to look at the trunk and then chuckled softly, purring, "I thought you didn't have a place to put him."

Pride stinging, Blue murmured back like a chided sparkling, "I didn't know I had room."

Snorting, the fake officer turned on his lights and growled, "Follow me… let's see what's wrong with the slagger."

Bluestreak wanted to break and pull away, to end this charade, but instead he found his engine roaring to pick up speed. Silently, he was hoping to Primus that the little drone hadn't died in his trunk though if the other had… he was sure he would have noticed. He was sure he would have at least started weeping and pulled over to the side of the road and stayed there until he forgot how to feel.

How exactly was one supposed to react when a part of their soul offlined anyway?

…

It only took a few minutes to get to a barren location. It was a highway gas station that had died when an interstate had been put in. The black cop car drove behind the building over weed devoured gravel, the place long since abandoned, old signs fading and showing that this place had once been servicing gas and oil store. Bluestreak, only taking a moment to stare at the dirt covered windows, followed after the Con reluctantly in his alt form stalling as he watched the enforcer transform in a fury of parts and then walk to the garage door. The other mech then stuck his large fingers under the door and into the gravel and lifted, old hinges squealing as he opened the place up.

Then, staring at the youth behind him, Barricade growled, "You going to sit there all day? Get inside, unless you would rather have me inspect and try to make repairs here in the dirt."

Getting low on his tires, deciding that he rather dislike Barricade now more for his bossy attitude more so than being a Con, Bluestreak drove forward slowly and parked in the dusty building. He nearly jumped out of his armor when he felt a large hand slide against his trunk.

Roaring forward, nearly hitting into an old tool chest in reaction, the Con jumped back as Blue barked at the invasion of space, "Don't touch me!"

Shaking his head, crossing his arms, the Con growled in response, "You're aft is not that good looking, youngling. I was trying to get you to pop you trunk."

"… oh."

Sighing, feeling exposed and vulnerable, a part of him wondering if maybe Ratchet would help him if he ran away, Bluestreak popped his trunk. He tried not to shiver as he listened to heavy footsteps on the old concrete come up behind him, one hand being placed on the side of his open trunk. He heard a tisking, the black mech mumbling, "What a pathetic state you are in. Blackout would have had a fit."

Then, turning his head, he barked, "Frenzy cleaning off some space. Let's have a look at him."

Bluestreak nearly bulked again, so nervous in the Con's presence when a grey blur came out of a nearby office throwing what looked like a twenty year old nudy calendar in the air as he ran passed the youngling's hood, sliding on the concrete as he jumped on a nearby table… looked at all parts there for a moment before he took arm and started pressing the collection of items onto the floor into a parade of dust and heavy clinking noises.

The youngling cringed at every clunk noise and nearly bulked his entire frame when Barricade reached down and into his back seat slightly, pulling the drone out slowly. Then, with a grunt, he threw the larger drone over his shoulder and walked over to the table, half dropping the mass of metal on the table. Frenzy was a blur of metal immediately, the far more medically capable of the two as he stared looking for a jack to plug into, scorpion tail swinging off the table like a dead limb the whole time.

Blue took this time to transform, wondering how lucky Barricade must have been to find a garage they both could stand in, as he wrung his hands together like a nervous father outside the delivery room.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Frenzy swore something and Barricade turned around barking, his optics glowing a hard red, "Stupid youngling! H-how could you be so … so _glitched_ that you didn't even know how to … ugh. Frag, I don't have time to punish you. Get on your knees!" yelled the elder mech all of a sudden as he picked up the larger drone, Frenzy running up Barricade's moving limbs to perch himself on the enforcer's shoulder.

The gunner couldn't help but noticed not only how angry Barricade looked, but how enraged Frenzy was as well as if he had been personally insulted by whatever was wrong. Taking a step back, suddenly feeling threatened and wishing he was closer to the exit, he whimpered, "W-why?"

Barricade got in the other's face like he did with young cadets all the time, Blue cringing back as if he was going to be hit, the enforcer growling so low that it was almost a whisper, "_On your knees_. You stupid little fool before I put you there. You will do as I say if you want my help. Is that clear?"

Hands shaking, Blue nodded and added in a timid voice, "… Yes."

Wings shivering, trying to keep his leg's from quivering he walked to the middle of the garage and slowly knelt, getting on his knees. Swallowing, just waiting for a strike to come, he placed his hands on the top of his knees leaning his head forward as he went stiff. There was only a moment of stillness before Barricade came behind him, the drone being placed down behind him. The mech's hands were then suddenly on Blue's shoulder's which made him go stiff even though the touch was surprisingly warm and not as threatening as the voice was a moment ago as he stated, "Calm down, youngling. I'm not going to strike you today_, though I should,_ for your lack of knowledge in drone care. Just relax you shoulder's, let them droop, raise your door wings away from your body to give me more access."

Blue did as he was told, listening to Frenzy say something before Barricade added, "The port was drilled into your back, yes? Seems like the safest vantage point for your model. Scorponok was never stupid."

Unable to say anything, the Autobot merely nodded, his hands digging into his knees and he felt Barricade undress his back, murmuring, "Must have healed well, I can't even find it at first glance. Though lots of good energon does that. Now, let's see … where is the mechanism to lift …"

Feeling a hand with sharp talons pulling gently on plate after plate of his armor was unnerving in itself, until the Con got right below the door wings where the port that Scorponok had drilled into him was located. On instinct, the youth dropped his wings and tried to turn around and growl in defense, "Don't touch!"

It was a normal reaction to any new Master, to protect the port, so in reaction Barricade merely slapped the side of youngling's helm, forcing Bluestreak to arch forward and nearly fall to the floor as the elder growled, "Ignore your instincts! You ignored them earlier apparently given the drone's state so why not now?"

Blue's optics dimmed, the youngling letting his wings drop in a depressed manner as he slung his head forward, only twitching now at the touches around the back port though he made no movement's to stop whatever the cruiser was doing. Not even when he heard a click … a metal covering sliding up.

Bluestreak swallowed as several unknown programs came online, his hands shaking in fear.

Tilting his head, looking at the new wiring and energon engorged wiring, the Con felt angry again for a moment. He might have been irritated with Frenzy but he would have never, _never_, let him go hungry especially if he was this well fed. The port was basically just trying to ooze energon knowing it had to feed the drone.

Idiot kid ignored his instincts that much was the frag sure.

Growling in his throat, the black mech murmured, "Looks healed, but let's check."

Not feeling courteous though, he knew how a new drone carrier would react, Barricade slide two finger's under the thin metal seal that kept out particles and into the port to make sure that there wasn't a blockage, hitting delicate and new wiring. This caused the youngling's want to rise to his feet stall as the cruiser hit numerous sensors. Bluestreak received messages back of pleasure, pain, sickness and new program pop ups.

The youngling was almost paralyzed by the prying hand, causing the youth to turn his head and whimper, "W-what are you doing? P-please stop."

Barricade chuckled, a dark chuckled as Frenzy leapt onto Blue's back an spread the wings so the port hook up was bared, his voice stating, "It's okay to scream the first time… new wiring came be so sensitive."

Before the Autobot could even feel nervous or pull away and asked what Barricade meant by that, Bluestreak saw moment around Scorponok and then felt something slam into his back right into the new port and its raw wires. The input of information and emotions made the gray mech arch before making him fall forwards on his hands and knees as his body was slammed over a gross mixture of pain, pleasure, data, need, hunger, love and voice. It took all that was in him not to collapse completely or release the contents of his tank. But, just as quickly as the rawness had come, it dulled into a throb. It only took him a moment to figure out what had been done as he felt Scorponok's part of the bond, a display popping up with needed downloads for drone uplinks and energy amounts being transferred.

Blue shiver, barely noting that Barricade had added in a surprised tone, "Huh, you didn't scream… well, I bet you screamed like a bleeding little virgin the first time though. The drill fucking hurts for every drone but the bigger the drone … the worse it is. The growth of Frenzy's holding chamber hurt more than the drilling uplink though, trust me. I couldn't move for days."

Closing his eyes, just auto accepting any files trying to be accepted from the drone, Blue rubbed his arms, and whispered, "A-and how is this helping Scorponok? Or are you just torturing me."

Sighing, reaching for an oil drum though he knew that in a little bit he would have a fresh new cube of energon from the idiot kid, Barricade grumbled, "He was hungry so I made sure he was fed. Slagger almost starved to deactivation."

Blue, turning his head to watch the black mech groan as he sat down against a wall, choked, "B-but I gave him energon. H-he was taking his cubes!"

Chuckling, shaking his head as he ripped off the metal lid, Barricade met the youngling's gaze and growled, "Stupid kid… drones can't process raw energon. You're systems do that for him. If he could feed himself, he wouldn't have picked a young and stupid Master so desperately. He was starving when he forced himself onto you."

Blue just continued to look at the other in horror.

"He would have starved without a Master," said Cade stoically.

Optics shivering, his voice almost a whisper, Blue asked, "So I'm nothing but a meal to him for now and forever."

Barricade's optics grew a little softer and he said nothing to that. Instead, he just whispered he was going to recharge and he'd wake when the drone finally started to stir so he could check for any more problems.

Blue… found himself hating the drone again, but just for a moment… the bond pressing hard against his spark like a camouflaged parasite.

XXX

Paw07: Hmmm, Blue, you just made a deal with the devil. Though personally, I love Cade to death.


	9. Sickness

Chapter 9: Sickness

Prowl's chassis was puffed up, as usual. At least that was always what it looked like to Kup as he observed the other mech on the ship's deck, the ocean slamming against the military vessel. He was a curious character, to say the least. Most would say he was a stoic, cold mech with no emotional attachments or programs, but Kup knew better. He had raised a youngling with a persona just like Prowl. Just like him in every way it seemed. The youngling in question… Now that was a mournfully old memory, but with the recent loss of Hot Rod it was bound to happen, especially around a near clone. Recalling it now, he remembered finding the kid in the rubble, a few vorns from being an adult much like Bluestreak. The youth was scavenging and bitter and angry. He would steal from any mech not wise enough to guard his back… be them Decepticon or an Autobot Officer.

That was how it had started off, Autobots coming into the base he had been stationed at during the time, many missing things. Energon, parts … maps. It had been a bit of luck, at least for Kup, that they had ever caught the young thief at all. A battle had taken place near some old ruins by the base and there was a scream as the rubble came down. Not that most mechs noticed, dodging gunshots and all, but as a Caretaker he knew a young mech's cry when he heard it. So, after the battle, in the blood and energon and steaming metal they looked for an extra body and sometimes later they dug up a youngling, half starved and angry.

And stoic.

It took nearly a third of a vorn before the youngling started speaking and interacting in a proper manner with his saviors. He had said that he remembered his name, but when the ones who were supposed to be his creators abandoned him… they took his name with them the youth had proclaimed far too bitterly. Apparently, a name only has power to the ones that love and know you… And there was no one like that now.

A sad proclamation for a youngling and looking at Prowl, he saw the youngling for a moment; _Runner_ as the youth had named himself. And Prowl was so much like Runner even though Runner was so much more angry and harsh and hurt but … he twitched his door wings so much like Prowl was doing right now. In fact, Prowl's entire form was held so much like Runner's. Frag, prowl even frowned like Runner. And if he didn't know that Prowl had been found much earlier than Runner and had been taken under the observant optic of Ion-3, Kup might have thought Runner and Prowl one in the same.

But, Runner, the poor thing, he was deactivated. Kup was sure. They had gotten separated in one of the mech's first battles and … his spark still hurt.

He was sure he would lose all his younglings in the end due to this damn war. It was cruel of Primus. It really was to take all of his younglings before even taking him. How many bonds were ripped to shreds in his chassis? How many younglings would never snuggle with him again even once they became adults and no longer needed such attentions? How many would never be alive to ask him about bond-mates and sparkling carrying and fraggen everything else a Caretaker was expected to do in a younglings' long life? He spark hurt merely at the thought.

He didn't want to count how many he had lost.

"**What are you staring at, Kup?"**

Kup, who had unknowingly been staring at the higher officer the whole time he was thinking about lost younglings, perked up and widened his optics. Onlining and offlining his optics to try and reset his thoughts, he did a very Hot Rod like thing, "**What**?"

Prowl, who had taken a few steps closer in worry, twitched his wings and said again in a nearly emotionless tone, "**Why are you staring at me? Does my form unsettle you or have I upset you unknowingly somehow?"**

Frowning, silent for a moment, Kup said softly, "**No, you just remind me of a younglin' I knew."** _And miss_ … _why do I keep losing younglings?_

Straightening his shoulders, though Kup knew from his time with Runner that to read mechs like Prowl's emotions you had to look at his wings, Prowl tried to look unconcerned. Yet, in truth, he was irritated. Kup could tell by the slight twitches of the enforcer's wings.

"**I understand though I would request that you do stop staring**," said Prowl evenly in Cybertronian, though Kup continued to stare.

And Prowl allowed him to, even when the ship slowed, getting to their location the military humans started running around deck like so many little insects. Some of the men were probably the ones that had dropped the metallic bodies months ago because most of them didn't stare too much. Prowl, feeling slightly unnerved at the thought of pulling of corpses, transformed and sat there, some humans jumping back at the sound of twisting gears.

Kup had scavenged the dead more times then he liked to admit and didn't even twitch as the first submarines were dropped into the ocean's cold embrace. He just stood there watching the humans run back and forth to their assigned stations like a finely tuned machine. Interesting creatures, easily frightened by fast movements and large sizes … yet they would overcome those twitches and beating little hearts to get the job done. Brave little soldiers, ready to die for a war that wasn't theirs yet their barely the age of a sparkling. He silently respected them … but he was not going to make friends with any of them because he was not going to end up like Ironhide after that Annabelle incident.

So … many … animal … crackers.

Ratchet would still find one from time to time getting crunched by Ironhide's twisting gears.

Kup twitched at the thought of human food getting in his gears and turned his attention to the still enforcer. He almost laughed at the sight. Frag, he was so much like Runner he swore they could have been brothers. Runner would do this all the time to pout, transforming into his alt mode so no one would see the twitching of his wings or the probable twitch of a facial feature. His tires told the tale though … and Kup could only shake his head as he chuckled.

Prowl was just a younglin' compared to his age.

"**What's bothering you, Prowl? You can talk about it instead of brooding, you know**," said Kup, reaching into a subspace. He needed a cy-gar because this was going to be one of those conversations. Getting Runner to open up made him want to beat his head against a wall so why would Prowl be any different?

Prowl, sinking lower on his tires, replied, "**I am not brooding**."

Laughing as he brought the cy-gar to his mouth, Kup continued, **"I took care of a kid just like your Prowl. You're brooding and this is going to be a **_**loooong**_** trip. In fact, it might be so long that you might find yourself swimming back if you keep it up."**

"**Are you threatening me?"** said Prowl, slightly flabbergast.

"**No, I'm just making a statement,"** said Kup as he took a puff of his cy-gar, noting that a few humans would slow down to stare before heading back to their posts, **"Now, what's your problem with me?"**

Prowl, probably glaring in alt mode, twitched on his tires before he sighed, **"My only problem with you is your disrespect of authority."**

"**I'm older than you. I've earned the right to pick at you younglings,"** said Kup, smiling coyly like he knew a joke no one else did.

Transforming quicker than a flash, his door wings twitching and his face actually showing an expression of irritation, a pout that Runner used to carry currently on Prowl's features, the officer barked, "**I'm not a youngling**!

Chuckling, loving that he had actually riled an emotion on out of the other, he grumbled, "**Compared to me you are**."

Hand's becoming light fists, optic glowing almost a whitish blue, Prowl tried to keep his cool, "**You will stop with this behavior immediately. It is unprofessional**."

Giving the younger mech almost a bored look, taking a puff of his treat, Kup smirked, "**Well, you lock your emotions so tightly inside your chassis … I had to get them out of you somehow. So, like a youngling I had much like you in the past, I picked at you until you looked me in the optic and exposed yourself to me … I can see that you, Prowl. I can see you. Now tell me what I'm seeing."**

Prowl, wings dropping as his optics dimmed, shook his head as if confused, "**Of course you can see me. I am standing right in front of you."**

Glaring, lip twitching, the elder mech all but barked**, "I see that you have feelings, Prowl! That's what I'm saying! I see your silent glares and how your wings dip when you think yourself alone and how you go out of your way to watch Bluestreak. Is this about my request to Optimus, to be Blue's caretaker! I'm sick of your brooding! If you wanted him you should have asked for him!"**

Door wings going high, the first show of rage that Kup had truly seem from the enforcer, Prowl whispered darkly, a tone that even some of the humans froze to though they were speaking Cybertronian, **"I did want him! I wanted to take care of him so badly … but I couldn't."**

Prowl seemed to wilt, seemed tired and old and for a moment Kup was sure he had looked the same way once … broken and tired. An old broken heart, sunken and forgotten most of the time like dead leaves sinking to the bottom of a lake.

Sighing, features becoming softer, Kup asked in almost a whisper, "**Then** **why not? Why didn't you take him… he's been alone for so long. For so long… you must have had enough spark to see that he was in pain."**

Optics soft, old memories rising up like water from the ground, Prowl's words were supple like memories shifting through a mirror as nothing more than shadows, **"I did… I knew. I saw it every fraggen time I walked past him. But I couldn't … he looked so much like **_**him**_** out of the corner of my optics and I couldn't fail Bluestreak like I had failed **_**him**_**… he deactivated because of my foolishness."**

Silent for a moment Prowl's words were so soft it sounded like it came from the dead, **"I can't fail him the way I failed my brother."**

Puzzle pieces in the shape of words were finally placed together and a sad picture was made complete for the old timer. Prowl was a lonely heartbroken spark full of shame and pain and scarred like so many sparks before his. Kup had to look away, his lip tight. It wasn't his place to dig open such a grave but it would be cruel to not at least offer flowers, to offer a kind word.

A little bit of comfort for this situation as an Autobot would do. Shifting nearer to the other, voice soft, Kup replied, **"I understand and I didn't mean to pry …"**

Silent for a minute more, he decided on a course of action.

"**Prowl … Do you want to rest with me on the trip back? You are still a younglin' to me no matter your status and there's no shame in admitting you need a little comfort while you recharge," **said Kup, staring at Prowl though the enforcer was making a real show of staring at the moving cranes, the bodies having probably been located in the depths.

Blinking his optics, words soft, Prowl replied, **"Stop calling me a youngling. It would be unprofessional not to mention confusing for the humans on board if they found us snuggled together in root mode as we fell in recharge to teach other's spark beats. I am not so weak sparked that I need comfort like that anymore."**

Finally giving in, feeling like the whole conversation had been for little, Kup's voice was almost bitter, **"There is nothing wrong with having emotions and wanting comfort. It is a characteristic of Autobots to want to give and take comfort from each other's sparks. As an Autobot, you should already know that."**

Then turning, walking over to the commotion with the moving cranes, he almost didn't hear Prowl whisper, **"It is an Autobot thing to do, Kup. You are correct. I have not shared a berth with anyone for any purpose in a long time … though … I wouldn't mind recharging in alt mode next to you this evening Kup. Not at all."**

Looking at Prowl, feeling a little happier then when he had started the conversation, even if to humans they would merely look parked, Kup merely nodded in reply. Prowl really did need more bonds because Kup was quite sure the enforcer didn't have any. And a quiet mech like that … he needed more.

…

Bluestreak shifted on his knees. This position was uncomfortable and he was starting to feel a little wheezy. Scorponok was taking a lot out of him. He wasn't used to being drained of energy this quickly and his systems were starting to feel exhausted… or maybe it was these new programs.

Personally, part of him didn't want to know, but that didn't stop him from groaning and leaning forward, placing his helm on the cool concrete.

Barricade, who had raided Blue's energon stash of his own accord telling Bluestreak not to move, roused slightly from his soft recharge. Yawning, or the equivalent of it as he sucked air into his vents to jump start his systems, he onlines his optics and stared at the moaning youngling for a moment. Grumbling, he then sent a quick command to Frenzy and the little bot popped out of his compartment in a heartbeat though the little drone stood there a moment just glaring since he had been woken as well. Taking time to flip his partner the bird, Frenzy then made his way over the dizzy Autobot like a weary cat.

Chatting to himself as he got braver, the drone climbed up the youngling's still form and up to the Autobot's helm. With thin fingers he placed a hand on Blue's helm and patted it for a moment to get the bot to react. When he got nothing substantial, he crawled down to Scorponok and placed his helm on top of the Scorpion-bot as if looking for a heartbeat. A few moments later, tisking at the ravenous drone, he clicked back to Barricade whom could barely keep his own red optics open.

Groaning, not surprised with Frenzy's diagnosis at all, he slowly got to his feet and circled the youngling before he stopped at Blue's back, asking, "Auto-brat, you feeling light headed or do you're limbs feel tingly?"

Moaning into the concrete, helm so fuzzy that he was starting to feel faint, he admitted, "Yes."

"Greedy little parasite," grumbled Barricade as he knelt by the drone, trying to decide if he was just going to rip the tail out or see if he could wake the drone. Well, he had been roused from his sleep, why should the drone get a gentle wake at all? Besides, he didn't want that stinger in his face if the drone woke in battle mode. He was feeding properly for the first time so his systems might be on guard for their new host.

Reaching for some wires at the base of the tale and spinal column, Barricade started pinching the tubing there. It would be painful, no doubt, drones were always were very protective of the limb that allowed them to feed. It was of little surprise that the reaction was instantaneous. The tail was ripped from the youngling's back port causing the youth to scream in pain and collapse on cement while the scorpion-bot came fully online, legs spread and tail ready to strike as processed energon dripped from the tip.

For a moment there was silent, stillness before a storm as Scorponok's system assessed the threat and his current location as well as … his energon levels…

Was that a cry from his Master?

Battle mode still on high guard he pressed into the bond and found Bluestreak panicking and as he turned his many eyes he saw what was wrong immediately. Bluestreak had energon leaking down his back, staining his grey armor an unsightly color. From the looks of it, it was near the port so it was probably a rough release though pulling it out would have been more destructive. Not that Blue probably new or cared about the latter fact. He was in agony, if the bond was any indication as well as the blubbering, but such pain should be expected from new wiring that also had energon loss.

The scorpion-bot, wanting to tell his caretaker to remain calm, pressed into the bond especially with the way the young mech that was choking in the dirty cement as his shoulders shivered. Slowly backing up towards the young bot, he turned his optics to the only threat in the room now that he knew his Master's status… Barricade.

Slagger. He didn't trust him, but he knew that Barricade spoiled Frenzy, but that still didn't answer why he was in this strange building with Barricade and Frenzy, his Master's drone-port damaged. Finally getting to his youngling, he started clicking, pressing into the bond to try and get some answers. Bluestreaker merely shivered, fingers digging into the cement.

Watching Scorponok for a moment, knowing all too well that there was a lot of bond communication going on and failing from Scorponok's ever growing agitation, Barricade came closer. Not close enough to be impaled, he knew better, but he got close enough to get his tone across and to try and see that wound a little better, "Don't give me that accusing look… I didn't do that to him. I didn't bring you here. Your young Master came to me for help… and you gave him that wound."

Part of him wanting to scold the young Master for his stupidity, but Scorponok resisted. If it wasn't for Barricade … he would probably be dead. Getting lower on his legs, Scorponok could only hiss and click away his distaste though he was sure Barricade would get the point.

Chuckling darkly to himself, loving how vulnerable these two were, Scorponok never having to play the role of partial caretaker with such a younging, Barricade replied, "You overfed. That's why he's not answering, the port wound in minor if it doesn't get infected. I had to force you to let go because you might have seriously hurt him if I had allowed this to continue. A young drone carrier can't take that kind of stress... Though this could have been ignored if you had just taken what you wanted as fed before you started starving. Then again … younglings can be very flighty, can't they?"

Loving how Scorponok seemed to shift uneasily from side to side, nervous and frightened as if the earth was falling away from his feet, Barricade shook his head. It was pathetic for a Decepticon to be so sensitive.

Sneering, Barricade allowed his distaste to be known, "You are pathetic. A true drone would have allowed himself to starve then attach himself to an Autobot. It's softened your spark."

Regardless, the scorpion drone whined but did not back down from his youngling as Barricade took another step forward, grumbling, "You're too soft. Now let's wake up the brat … hopefully he has some spare energon in his sub space otherwise I don't know if he will be able to wake up for that matter get back to his base. We might have to call the Autobots if not. And if we have to do that … I have no idea what kind of lie he will come up to why his energy levels are so low. But that's his problem, isn't it?"

Chuckling, he added, "The absurdity of it... an Autobot practicing deception. He must be catching it from you, Scorpy."

Scorponok glared, clearly not amused.

XXX

Paw07: Eh, a short chapter but we get some plot movement. And of course, a cliffhanger as I am notorious for. Later my dudes and dudettes … though I am sure that most of my readers are dudettes even if this is the transformers section. X3


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